


Obsession

by brimstonegold, virtualpersonal



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternative Universe - FBI, Angst, Blood, Blood Drinking, Charming Dean, Desire, Double Entendre, Flirting, Glory Hole, Human Spike, Humor, Lust, M/M, Obsession, RST, Romance, Sex Club, Sexy Times, UST, Vampire Dean Winchester, Violence, canon adjacent, dean still hunts, fbi agent spike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4918333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brimstonegold/pseuds/brimstonegold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FBI agent Spike is infatuated by mysterious charmer, Dean Winchester, but must resist his lusty desires or blood will run.  Dean, now a vampire, is equally obsessed with the nosy FBI agent, and will keep pushing until Spike breaks or comes clean about what he fears will happen if they get together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://imgur.com/ml9Z4eW)

Dean watched the bleach-blond poking about the graveyard. The man had found the vampire dust from Dean’s recent staking battle and was collecting it, obviously to take back to some lab. Dean admired the long leather trench coat the guy wore, imagining tromping about cemeteries in it himself, but deciding it would likely be a little too small on him. The guy was lean, with high, defined cheekbones, and just damned fine looking. Taking a deep breath, Dean decided the gorgeous looker smelled like a wet dream. It didn’t help that Dean was hungry, but, with slayers about, he was very cautious to keep a low profile. Not that he fed from people, but still. Studying the man, his gut told him the guy wasn’t a hunter. That didn’t make him any less dangerous, though, and Dean knew better than to underestimate anyone. 

Spike raised the test tube up and looked at it in the moonlight before he capped it. The prickles on the back of his neck had him looking around, but he saw nothing but shadows and gravestones. "Just me and a bunch of dead blokes," he muttered, trying to shake free of the feeling of being watched.

Dean followed the blond at a discreet distance, watching as the man’s eyes tracked with the flashlight he carried. The man paused where there had been a scuffle a few nights back. The guy was good, Dean would give him that. He wondered if the guy was a coffee or beer drinker, and where he was staying. Yeah, he might just have to follow the guy home and do a little investigating of his own.

Spike kicked some of the loose soil around and seeing a glint, cocked his head and bent down. Pulling a pen out of his shirt pocket, he used it to dig out a leather strap, hook the buckle and lift it up. An old style watch dangled in front of him. He turned it and saw there was an engraving on the back. Blowing off the soil, he couldn't make out the writing but did see a '1904' on it. Dropping it into a plastic ziplock bag, he straightened and stared at the ground for a while longer before following an almost invisible trail that told the story of a chase and then a struggle. But where had it all started?

Straightening, Dean frowned. The guy was headed between some tombs, but Dean’s place was along that way, too. He tried to be careful, making certain he didn’t walk the same path all the time. What if this guy had picked up his trail? What if his hunch was wrong and the guy really was a hunter? Or a watcher? Killing either of those would bring trouble down on his head and attention he didn’t want or need. Certainly he tried to avoid killing people, but he did believe in survival and would keep the option open only as a last resort.

He circled around the mausoleums so he could watch the blond guy and keep an eye on his own place. If Handsome was headed for his place, Dean would have to intervene and draw him away.

Stopping where the trail ended, Spike's gaze followed its natural trajectory and came to rest on a large mausoleum on the outer edges of the graveyard. It was probably nothing, but he started towards it.

The phone in his pocket vibrated seconds before it rang to the tune of 'Bad to the Bone.' Stopping abruptly, he took the call.

"A bit past your bedtime, isn't it," he started to joke, but quickly sobered. "Where? Right, I’ll be there. Keep the local law enforcement from mucking it up, will you?" Dropping his phone into his pocket, Spike turned on his heels and strode away, heading for his car on the far side of the graveyard.

Dean breathed a small sigh of relief. Not that he didn’t have other places he could take over, but he’d gotten his place set up with electricity and even cable. He watched the guy get into his car and head north. He wanted to know more about this overly curious guy so he shadowed the car, but kept well back.

*

Hours later, Spike stood aside as they carried the body up the incline. 

“Do we have a serial killer on our hands?” Agent Harvelle asked.

“Something like that.” Spike watched as the local law enforcement started clearing out. “They’re going to call this an animal attack.”

“You’re really going with your theory that those were human bite marks? That someone... that several people ate that kid alive?” Jo made a face, “I think I like their theory better.” But as they exchanged looks, it was clear she didn’t think animals were responsible.

“People. Or... somethings,” Spike said, pulling a cigarette out.

“I thought you quit.”

“I did, you’re just imagining this,” he answered lighting up and starting the climb.

“You want to grab a drink?” she asked him as she reached the top of the incline.

He shook his head. “You know me, it’s late so it’s straight to bed.”

She gave a snort and headed for her car.

Standing outside his vehicle, Spike stared at the Golden Gate Bridge as he quickly finished his smoke. Tossing the cigarette butt, he pulled the door open and got in. 

* * *

It was long past midnight and it was only a Thursday, but the seedy bar was bursting at the seams. Men groped each other to the grinding beat of the music, on the small dance floor, on the sofas, and in every corner. 

Spike motioned for another scotch, his speculative gaze moving to the back room area. It had been a long, hard week. 

Dean had followed the guy, listening and watching his interactions. The guy claimed to be FBI. Not that that meant he was. Hunters were notorious for fake IDs. Still, the guy had Dean intrigued. He hadn’t been able to get close enough to catch anything but snatches of conversation but when the guy came to this bar? That made Dean smile.

Pushing through the crowd, he made his way up to the bar and next to blondie. He slapped some money down and got a whiskey. Glancing at the guy he’d been shadowing, he gave him a charming smile. “You new in town? I think I’d remember seeing you. No, I know I’d remember seeing you.”

Spike’s gaze flicked over to the guy, but didn’t linger. Even so, he’d seen enough to know he was the sort who always got what he wanted. A smile, a few right words, next thing you knew, anything the bloke wanted, you’d give it to him. Just the sort Spike avoided. “Memory must be on the blink, then,” he said, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

“I’ve got a real good memory, especially for a guy like you and an accent like yours. I must just keep missing you. Guess it’s a good thing I decided to come in tonight,” Dean said. “You look like you’ve had a long day. You want to go sit in back and relax?” He held up his hands. “Just conversation and maybe a neck rub, nothing else.”

Spike’s eyes flicked back to Dean’s face. This time, it took effort to drag his gaze away from the guy’s too sexy lips and devastating eyes. “Tell me honestly, have you _ever_ gone there just for conversation?” Spike gave a snort, and took a drink. 

“Honestly? Yeah, I have. It’s hard to talk out here. Just cause I’m hitting on you, doesn’t mean I’m gonna do anything more. Random sex with random strangers? Not a good idea. So, come on. Join me,” Dean said and jerked his head toward the back. “Or we can do the coffee shop across the street, but no neck rub there. They have good pie though.” Dean boldly met the guy’s gaze, pursing his lips ever so slightly, almost daring the guy to take him up on one of his offers. 

Spike smiled, but only because he couldn’t help himself. “Sorry mate, you’re barking up the wrong tree. You’re bloody gorgeous and you know it, but I _only_ do anonymous strangers.” Lifting a finger off his glass, he pointed to the other back room, which was pitch dark and had a wall of glory holes. “Just don’t want to waste your time.”

“Somehow I don’t think any time spent with you would be wasted,” Dean said. “So go have your fun then join me for coffee. What do you have to lose but a little bit of time?”

“It’s not what _I_ have to lose that keeps me up at nights.” Spike wasn’t going down that road again. He’d learned his lesson well. Didn’t mean his heart didn’t burn for something he’d never have again. Upending the glass, he set it down on the bar and got up. “I think you’ll have better luck on the other end of the bar,” he said, slapping the much-too-good-looking stranger on the shoulder and tipping him off to all the interested glances heading his way. Squeezing lightly, he let go and headed straight for the back room.

Entering, Spike waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark. The most he could make out were dark shapes and small movements. Grunts and soft moans broke around him. As he started to walk to the back wall, a hand caressed his chest and he was propositioned. He didn’t answer and just kept walking.

Some of the men along the wall were on their knees, their heads bobbing back and forth. Others stood, their bodies slightly bowed back, their arms above their shoulders, some with their hands flat against the wall, others hanging onto the wall by putting their fingers through holes that served as handholds.

It was the blank spaces between them that Spike was interested in. If he could see fingers coming through the wall up high, it meant someone wanted a blow job. Course they backed it up with pleas and dirty language. When the fingers came through much lower, as did their whispers, it meant someone was offering to service you.

He found a place where he wasn’t crowded in.

“Someone there?” a husky voice asked softly. “I need it, need to feel it so bad.”

“Makes two of us,” Spike said, passing the guy over. He found another spot, and could see the man behind the cardboard thin wall was standing. “You. Get on your knees,” Spike said. Sometimes you could get a guy to change their mind about what they wanted.

“You wanna fuck my mouth? How bad do you wanna fuck my mouth, baby?” the man behind the wall asked, slipping thin, almost delicate fingers through the lower holes, but obviously not yet on his knees.

“Want to see how badly?” Spike asked, pulling his leather coat open wider and unbuttoning his pants, then pulling his zipper down. He squeezed himself and thought about how it would feel to be inside someone’s warm, wet mouth. Squeezing and stroking a few more times until he was hard, he pushed his dick through the hole. “Let me feel your tongue. On your knees.” A muscle pulsed in Spike’s jaw.

“Oh, baby, someone got you hot and bothered,” the man said and sank to his knees. The tip of his tongue swirled over Spike’s head. “Don’t you taste fine,” he said and put his lips right on the tip, sucking ever so slightly.

Spike let out his breath. Pressing his hands flat against the wall, he looked down. What he couldn’t see because of the darkness and the wall barrier, he filled in with his mind. “What if they did?” he asked. “Maybe it was you.” He needed more pressure, but he let the guy get warmed up.

The guy sucked Spike’s crown into his mouth and hollowed his cheeks, rolling his tongue around it. He slid his fingers of one hand through the holes. “Interlace your fingers with mine,” he demanded pulling off Spike.

“Bloody hell, just...” Gritting his teeth, Spike slid one hand down almost to his waist, and did as the guy asked. “You’re not going to ask me to marry you,” he said, tightening his hold and thrusting against the wall in a clear hint.

The guy laughed. “Not even in your dreams,” he said and ran his tongue from Spike’s balls up to his tip, then sucked him all the way into his throat.

“Good.” Spike’s curt answer melded into his reaction, “real good.” He started to pull back, his eyes drifting closed at the sensation of his cock encased in the wet vacuum of the guy’s mouth. He thrust his hips again, a small moan of relief escaping him when the guy didn’t move his mouth away. “Keep sucking. Right... just like that.” The fingers of his other hand curled through some holes in the wall above his shoulders.

The man didn’t let up, bobbing his head, pulling off every once in a while, then going right back down. His fingers moved in Spike’s hand, practically tensing and relaxing every time he went down and pulled off. The guy paused just a moment and said, “Give me some dirty talk, I would do it but my mouth is full.” And he went right back down on Spike, sucking hard.

“Keep sucking. Take me down... deep. Deeper.” Spike started to thrust faster. “Take me in that beautiful mouth...” A vision swam in his head. Plump sensuous lips. A raspy voice whispered in his ear. Unforgettably green eyes burned hotly for him.

Spike’s nostrils flared. He tried to banish the image. “Suck it.” His hand slapped the wall. “Suck it harder. Take it. Take every bloody inch of my hard cock,” he demanded, trying to imagine someone else. Anyone but the guy who’d offered him whatever he’d wanted. Except peace. Those eyes, those lips, that voice... there was nothing about that package that allowed Spike his peace.

The guy did his job, sweat beginning to drip down his face as he worked Spike’s hard cock, wrapping his tongue around it, licking off the dribbling cum, sucking on the tip then taking Spike in and deep-throating him again and again, pausing only to gasp breaths in between. “Come for me, baby,” the man demanded, then went back down and sucked hard. “Come like a fucking fire hydrant.” 

Spike’s head rolled back. He didn’t know who’s name to groan out as heat exploded behind his eyes and he slammed his body up against the wall, shooting his cum probably half way across the room on the other side of the wall. He told himself it was because he hadn’t had release in a while. But those bloody green eyes still stared back at him in his mind.

“Thank you,” he whispered, “Just what I needed. You know what you’re doing.” He waited until the guy stopped licking him clean, then he pulled away from the wall. Tucking himself back in, he zipped up and picked his way out of the room. 

Spike didn’t look back at the bar. He didn’t want to see. He wanted to forget, that was all. Striding straight for the exit, he walked out into the street, and headed for his car. 

***

Dean had followed the guy to his hotel, which pretty much confirmed in his mind the guy was really a Fed. Hunters couldn’t afford a place that nice. He’d gone back to his place, checked the tracks around the mausoleum and the alarms he had set up, then warmed up some blood in the microwave for dinner. After watching a movie, he went to sleep, but his dreams were haunted by blue eyes. He woke when the sun was setting, ate a donut dunked in warmed blood, and got dressed for work. As soon as he finished eating, he paused and fingered the ring he wore, a red gem glimmering in it, and headed out into the fading day, making his way to the South Bay Blood Center.

Dean waved to Sally, the girl he was relieving, and clocked in, then headed to the lab. He’d gotten his certificate to be a phlebotomist at night school and quickly found a job at the blood center. He’d been there a good couple years now. People came in at all hours to give blood, needing extra cash to hit the bars or to go out and party on. Dean just made sure he took a little more than he noted on the inventory, enough to keep his own reservoirs stocked up. 

As he started work, thoughts of the good looking Fed stuck in his head. He made a run to the hospital when there was an accident and they needed some extra blood, and he asked around about the recent death that the Fed had been investigating. Apparently Agent William Brighton was often called in when the cause of death was loss of blood due to neck trauma. That made Dean scowl a little.

He’d do some internet searching and hacking after he got off work. Dean knew there was a vampire gang working the area, which really pissed him off. He’d dusted the one whose ashes the Fed had collected. This was his territory, dammit, and he didn’t need any hunter, slayer, or X-file guy poking about because some fucking vamps were trying to move into the area. They were his problem and he’d take care of it.

The night went fast and as soon as he got off work, he headed over to an all-night diner he stopped at occasionally. He liked their burgers and it just happened to be near the hotel the Fed was staying at. Maybe he’d get lucky and see blondie. He could hope anyhow.

*

Spike had been deep in thought as he followed the waitress and sat down. If he hadn’t been, then he would either have ordered his food to go, or just hightailed it out of there. The last thing he would have done was sit where each time he looked straight ahead, he found the man from the club looking straight back at him.

If it hadn’t been a last minute decision to come to the diner, Spike might have had some suspicions. But the bloke had been there, innocently eating his burger, and it wasn’t a case of following Spike around.

Mouth tightening, Spike picked up a dinner menu and did his best to ignore the man.

Dean had been more than a little shocked when blondie _had_ actually walked in the diner. After the guy had been seated and looked at him a couple times, Dean finally got up and walked to his booth. “Hey, Blue Eyes. Why don’t you join me? I could use the company. I’ll even buy your meal and can make some good recommendations. C’mon, I don’t bite,” Dean said to him.

“Not worried about _you_ doing the biting,” Spike drawled. The guy was too damned charming by half and it had Spike wondering what a date, a real date, with this guy might be like. Interesting. Probably light. And he’d bet the guy was as good in the sack as he was at trying to chat him up. 

Spike stood up. “Put your hand out,” he said, putting his own out and shaking the guy’s hand, though he didn’t make any introductions. “That’s good. I’m on the meter, and the boss is watching, so make it look business-like.”

Dean wanted to call bullshit on the guy, but if the man wanted to play that game, he’d let him. The guy’s palm was warm against his own, slightly cool one. 

“The boss is watching, huh?” Dean said and gave him a smirk. “Okay, so long as you’re not charging me.” He turned and walked back to his own table. Sliding into his seat, he turned his plate so the guy could help himself to some of his onion rings if he wanted.

“Their burgers are awesome, their chicken fried steak is too, but stay away from the steak. It’s crap. They make a mean coleslaw, and if you like the healthy vegetables, their stuff is fresh and organic. Pork roast, sauerkraut and mashed potatoes are usually good, though this late at night, might be iffy. I’m Dean, by the way.”

“William,” Spike answered, his stomach growling. He eyed the onion rings, but ‘business associates’ did not eat from each other’s plates. 

“Help yourself,” Dean encouraged. “There’s plenty enough to share. Soooo, William. Will? Bill?” Dean resisted making a crack about being happy to free Willy if the guy was interested.

Spike shook his head ‘no,’ then did it again, more vehemently. “Spike,” he admitted, unable to keep from smiling. “Long story, and not very pleasant. You? Deanno?” he joked.

“Spike?” Dean asked smiling back, trying hard not to break into laughter. “And no. Just… Dean. So are you local? I mean, obviously you grew up in England, but I get the feeling you’ve been here awhile. In the States.”

Spike gave a nod, but put his order in when the waitress came by. After she walked away, he answered. “I was partly done with Uni back home when things...” He cocked his head to the side and gave a half shrug. “Things got weird... out of control, so I came here for a fresh start. I do tend to move about but San Francisco...” He smiled. “I do like it here. Come back as often as I can.”

He sat back, schooled his expression to hide the fact that he thought he might be able to stare at this man for hours. It wouldn’t do if anyone guessed. “What about you, Dean? You seem to be out and about late at nights. Is it work that keeps you up, or are you a night owl?”

“I work some days.” Dean absently fingered the ring he wore that permitted him to walk in the sun without turning crispy-fried, but he tried not to make a habit of it. Just enough to keep people from noticing he avoided the sun, but not enough to alert other vamps that he had a hard to come by magical ring in his possession that let him walk in the sun. “I’m a night owl when I can be. I got off work about an hour or so ago. I generally work the evening shift at the blood bank, but if they need me during the day to fill in, or during blood drives, I work ‘em. So what do you do? Where do you work?” Dean asked and after taking a sip of his strawberry milkshake, took another bite of his burger.

The straw between Dean’s lips distracted Spike despite his efforts. Pulling his gaze away, he looked at a point on the wall behind Dean for a moment, before his eyes flicked to Dean’s. “Work for the FBI,” he lifted his hands up, “and no, it’s not a line. We don’t even wear uniforms so I’m not quite sure what the draw is, yeah?” Too often, guys trying to pick him up claimed to be FBI agents themselves.

When his burger and fries were set down in front of him, Spike reached for the ketchup.

“The attraction is the danger and adventure and being able to crack jokes about showing somebody your gun,” Dean said after he swallowed, giving Spike a grin. “My life is generally not much in the way of adventure except when I get to drive the ambulance to get blood to the hospital when they put in an emergency call for it. Lights and sirens rock.”

Spike chuckled and dipped his fry into the ketchup and started eating. “Mmm, haven’t eaten all bleeding day.” He took another one. “Had a lot of coffee though. It’ll keep me up all night.” Course, he was having a coffee with his meal.

“You should drink more water, and mix in a shake now and then. You know, fresh fruit and all,” Dean said. “Sorry, it’s the medic in me. I’m one of the people who draw blood. People who drink coffee all day aren’t well hydrated. Makes it harder a lot of times, and then they have the gall to yelp when I stick them.”

“Bet you stick them good,” Spike drawled, then stuffed his mouth.

Dean watched as Spike ate the French fry, licking his lips. Shaking himself out of the distraction he gave a solemn nod. “You get to make jokes about your guns, phlebotomists get to make jokes about how good they are at sticking people.” Mischief in his eyes, Dean asked, “And when was the last time you were stuck good?”

“Right. I know that trick question. I say ‘too long’ and I’m a loser. I say yesterday and I’m a slut. I think I’ll take the Fifth on that one.” Waggling his brows, Spike started eating his burger. His mouth a little full, he commented on Dean’s plate. “You’ve hardly eaten.”

Dean laughed at his answer and gave a nod. He looked down at his plate. “I snack when it’s slow at work. The kid’s portion would’a been fine, but then you don’t get all the extras on the burger. I’ll have ‘em box what I don’t finish and have it tomorrow. And I’m saving room for pie.”

“Sweet tooth.” Spike gave a nod. He had no idea how anyone could have a strawberry milkshake with a meal, and Dean wanted to follow it up with pie? Then again, some might think he was weird for having coffee with his food. 

Time passed too quickly. Even after he’d finished his meal, Spike lingered for far longer than he’d intended. Dean had him laughing harder than he’d laughed in a long time. He had stories about the people he’d met in the city and the grief some of them caused him, and it kept Spike captivated.

Eventually, he dug in his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. “On me. I can expense it. Don’t forget to shake hands again,” he said, knowing he must sound weird, but Dean’s safety came before Spike’s embarrassment at looking like an idiot. 

He stood up and put his hand out. “Thank you. For a good time.” He grinned. “Not the usual sort, but the sort I needed.”

Dean had wanted to get Spike talking about his investigations, to see if he was a danger, but somehow, they just never got to it. He’d enjoyed talking with Spike far more than he knew he should have. He went out with his co-workers occasionally, but other than that, he didn’t have real friends. He had sex with random strangers of either gender because he didn’t dare get close to anyone and it wasn’t like he had to worry about STDs anymore. There were the demon bars he went to occasionally, but he’d been a hunter and it grated on him to sit with all those things a part of him said he should be killing. So he kept to himself, kept a small apartment in a decent part of town so he had a mailing address and had a place to take sex partners if it went that way, but he mostly stayed at the mausoleum where he didn’t have to worry about someone finding human blood in his fridge. These past hours with Spike had been more enjoyment than he’d had in a long time. He was sorry to see it end.

Dean shook Spike’s hand, then pulled out his wallet. “Hey, we’ve got a blood drive starting in two days. I’m gonna expect to see your name on the charts.” Dean handed him a business card with the blood bank’s name and address. He held up two fingers. “Two days. Don’t forget. I start at 1 pm that first day. You know, in case you want me to be the one doing the sticking.”

Spike pocketed the card. “Depends on where you plan to do the sticking, yeah?” For a split second, his gaze clashed with Dean’s, but he pulled away and walked out of the diner, knowing he would never, ever see that fascinating man again.

(A/N: Hopefully there are still some Spean fans out there :) )


	2. Chapter 2

Several days passed, and with them, an equal number of new dead bodies appeared. Spike was speaking to the coroner when, through the window on the upper part of the door, he saw Dean. It was strange. Like he’d had the feeling the man was there, or why else would he have looked at the door?

The doctor lifted the sheet and pointed, so Spike was forced to turn back and look at the body as the pathologist gave his findings. 

“And the foreign blood and skin under the victim’s nails? Did they come from a corpse?” Spike asked.

“How did you know that?” The pathologist walked across the room to the long counter along a wall, and picked up his report, bringing it back with him. “It’s all in here. Are there any theories at play? I don’t understand the data. Why would the victim have scratched a corpse?”

“Still a mystery. Thanks for your help, and have a good lunch.” Spike nodded towards the as yet uneaten plate of food on the table. 

Pushing the swinging door open, he walked out into the hallway.

*

Dean had made the blood delivery to the hospital in response to the hospital’s call due to a trauma patient in surgery. He chatted up the emergency staff and grabbed some of the coffee they made available to ambulance crews and police officers who came in. 

Course he’d been paying attention to the news and had long ago hacked the San Francisco PD database so he could stay apprised of events. Whoever had moved into town was leaving a stack of dead bodies. Dean wanted to talk with some of the lab folk and get the skinny on the murders so he knew what he might be hunting, or learn whether it was just the vampire gang that was trying to elbow its way in and make a name for itself. He’d dusted one vamp, and generally hellmouth vamps and the type of vamps he’d run into as a hunter did not play nice together, though things could always change.

Glancing in the window to the autopsy room and hoping no one was in, he was surprised to see Spike talking to the pathologist. Smiling, he went to refill of his own coffee and got one for Spike, since he knew Spike liked coffee. Maybe the guy hadn’t eaten lunch yet. He could hope. Dean knew if he had a pulse, it would have quickened by now. 

Leaning against the wall, sipping his coffee, he grinned as the guy walked out. “Agent! You never came by to give blood, shame on you.” He held out a cup. “It’s the good stuff out of the ER, not the machine.”

Spike had been hoping Dean had gone on his way. Then again, the smile gracing his face and sudden spring in his step said otherwise. His gaze dropped to the cup, then he reached for it. The jolt that passed through him when their fingers brushed had his gaze flicking up to meet Dean’s.

He gave a nod of thanks and took a quick sip. “Not bad, but you really shouldn’t have.”

“What? You said you drink coffee all day and the ER makes their coffee available to all the cops, ambulance crews, and people like me and you. Have you had lunch? There’s a place near here that has good Chinese.” Dean held up a slip of paper with some names of chinese dishes written on it. “Couple of the gang wanted me to pick up lunch since I had to drop off some blood. We’re a little too far out for them to deliver to the blood bank. So, join me?” Dean asked hopefully. 

“Bloody hell,” Spike cursed under his breath, his gaze raking Dean from head to toe and back. He wanted to. Wanted it with a passion. Days had passed and he’d thought about Dean so many times. Taken his card out so many times. Prevented himself from calling the man so many times. 

“Don’t do lunch,” Spike eventually said, running his hand over his face as they walked.

“Ah, c’mon, make an exception,” Dean said. “I’d...okay, let’s say I want to get the scoop on the latest murders to see if there’s any particular blood type they’re going after so the blood bank knows to try to bump up collection of that type. Or, hey, we can get you a list of people with that blood type in the target area, even if that might be stretching legalities a bit. Then you can consider it a working lunch and a service to the community.” 

He could smell Spike’s interest in him. But he could also smell an underlying fear and maybe even… sadness. Maybe Dean reminded the guy of someone he’d lost. But Dean wanted to talk about the case, and he wanted to know why Spike was in his cemetery collecting dusted vamp, and how Spike would taste if he kissed him...

Spike turned his gaze back to Dean. “You’re good. Real good,” he said. They both knew it was a ruse. Dean wanted to get to know him, same as Spike would love to get to know Dean. He relented though. “Alright. I’ll meet you there. And Dean,” he grabbed the guy’s arm, and couldn’t help but notice that Dean had to work out or keep in shape doing something other than sticking needles in people’s arms. “Strictly business, yeah?”

“Strictly business. I’ll ask all sorts of questions related to the investigation and you,” Dean said, his arm tingling where Spike’s warm hand was. He gave Spike the directions, then smiled as he started backing away. “Don’t you ditch me. You better be there.” It wasn’t until he reached the corner of the hall that he finally broke eye contact and walked quickly to where the blood bank’s ambulance was parked. 

Dean picked up the radio. “Mindy, It’s Dean.”

“Was beginning to wonder about you,” a woman answered.

“Sorry, got into a conversation. Leaving the hospital now, headed over for lunch. I’m gonna grab a bite there with a friend. Call me on my cell if anything happens and you need me back sooner. I’ll radio in when I leave there and yes, I have everyone’s requests.”

“Copy that. You’re out of service for lunch. Enjoy yourself.”

“Copy,” Dean answered and headed to the restaurant.

*

Spike’s conscience ate at him all the way to the restaurant. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to slip. And he was going to get one irresistible blood bank worker killed, all because he couldn’t keep his hormones in check. “Just lunch. Just one meal and he’ll be out of my hair for good,” Spike told himself. 

He pulled his car into the lot and parked next to the one marked with the blood bank’s name. Draining the rest of his coffee, he crumpled the paper cup and threw it out the window, into the bin next to his car.

This was a bloody stupid thing to do, and he knew it. Yet, he walked right through the restaurant doors and headed for Dean’s table. 

When their eyes met, Spike felt his temperature rise. He hoped his feelings weren’t obvious to others. Or rather, to the monster who haunted him and ruined his life.

Dean stood up when Spike approached. Damn did Spike look good, and the way his cheeks had such color, such life, he was certain he’d have felt his heart stutter if it still beat within his chest. He held out his hand to shake Spike’s. “Glad you could make it. I brought a notepad to make notes, making it much more businessy,” Dean said, a smile in his eyes but his voice sounded almost ridiculously serious. He waved to the seat . “Everything is good here except the stuff with the garlic. Stay away from that, and you’re golden, Agent… you know, I don’t know your last name and I think ‘Agent Spike’ doesn’t sound very official.”

Dean would never know how glad Spike was that Dean was actually making this appear to be a work lunch. “Brighton,” Spike said, giving a nod as he sat down. “You’re either a good actor, or you have role play practice,” he said, his eyes locking with Dean’s. He felt like a fool for going through this ridiculous farce, and wanted to explain to the man. But it wasn’t the sort of thing one explained over a meal, and it would rightfully have Dean running away screaming his head off. Which... perhaps would be for the best.

Dean smiled. “Good at role play. Might have been a little bit of a trouble-maker in my younger days, before I settled here. Real good at talking myself out of trouble, usually. Agent William Brighton. Nice name. Sounds so British.” He chuckled. “Figure out what you want to eat, and then I’m serious, I’m going to ask all sorts of questions about your investigations. And don’t worry. I don’t blog, or talk with reporters or anything. I’m actually really pretty interested in how the whole investigation thing works for a real FBI agent.” Dean said, but caught himself staring into those gorgeous ocean blue eyes.

The tension in Spike’s stomach wasn’t all from attraction. “Open your mouth and let me see your teeth,” he said, his hand subtly moving within reach of his weapon inside his trench coat. “Humor me.” He hoped he was wrong.

Dean sat back for a moment and ran his fingers through his hair. Did the guy know about regular vamps? Hellmouth vamps teeth, it was something demonic, they simply weren’t there until they went all bumpy forehead. Dean wondered if he should tip his hand, let Spike know he knew about vamps. But maybe that wasn’t even what Spike was looking for… no, no Spike was looking for vampire teeth.

He saw Spike’s arm shift. He knew that movement. He’d made it himself a hundred times. A thousand times. Unless Spike had the special colt, the gun was useless against either type of vampire and a lot of other supernatural evils.

Dean opened his mouth and leaned closer to Spike. He even pulled back his upper lip to show his gums, putting pressure there that would have shown a fang, if he hadn’t been of the Hellmouth variety. He tilted his head and looked at Spike. “Do I pass inspection?” he asked.

One of Spike’s two sources of tension drained, but the other only sharpened. “My other job’s dentistry. I was curious, and… no cavities. You pass with flying colors.” Their faces were too close, and his heart was racing. If he leaned in, only a little, if he closed the distance between their mouths. You’d have his blood on your hands, a shrill voice reverberated in Spike’s mind, causing him to pull away abruptly. 

Dean wanted to lean in, to kiss Spike, but not in a crowded restaurant. That would just be a bad idea. Especially as Spike made sure Dean knew it was business only. Which was a lie of course, but if Dean kissed Spike he was pretty certain Spike would bolt and that would be the last he’d see of the guy. And he really did want to see more of him. Literally and figuratively. 

“So Doctor Agent William Spike Brighton, huh?” Dean smirked. “You need to work on that lie a bit. Maybe work in something about how the English are known for bad teeth, and it still amazes you about us Americans and our pretty white teeth. So does the killer or killers have unique teeth?” Dean asked, taking a sip of the coffee the waitstaff had already brought him.

“Usually, I’m the one asking questions. Or telling the reporters to go fuck themselves. All done up nice and courteous, of course. Wouldn’t do to have them air anything like that.” Spike took a moment to put in his lunch order, and waited until Dean had done the same. 

“This is not for public consumption, and if it gets out, I’ll know the source,” he warned, his gaze locking with Dean’s, not that he was going to give him anything overly confidential. “We’re dealing with two different sets of killers,” he said. “The killings you referred to earlier, the ones making the news because of the blood draining aspect, that’s one set. Then there are others. The victims... right, there’s only one way to put this, they’re being eaten to death. So one lot gets drained to death and the other eaten.”

Dean frowned and straightened. Vamps didn’t eat human flesh. What the hell? Had somebody put an ad in the local paper inviting supernatural beasties into his territory? Usually anything that came into his territory, he took care of. Then again, the eaten people were a bit outside the area he called his. Not like he could cover all of San Fran. “And you’re certain we’re not talking animal attacks. Bites are consistent with human teeth and mouth size?”

Spike gave a nod. “Several attackers, not just one. There’s a bit more to it, things I can’t...” The guy had taken things in stride. That was more than unusual, unless-- “You a hunter?” he asked, his gaze not wavering from Dean’s.

Dean’s eyebrows lifted and he sat back. “Hunter.” He glanced away from Spike and looked through the front window, not looking at anything in particular. “...Yeah. At least, I was. I still hunt some, mostly trying to keep things out of where I’m living. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you know about hunters since you seem to be the Mulder-type, taking on the strange cases, especially the vampire ones.” His gaze returned to Spike. His eyes had grown a little cool. He didn’t like talking about what he had been, and certainly, although he dealt with it, he didn’t like talking about what he was now. 

“Retired, mostly,” Spike repeated. “That’s why you want to know.” That changed everything. “Haven’t met any of your kind who’re happy to share information. Mostly try get it from us, which, right, believe me, I understand not wanting to talk about things that make it sound like you’re out of your mind. Don’t you usually get information by pretending to be a Fed? Your approach is fresh,” he admitted. “You can drop the pretenses. The hot looks. The ‘put on.’ Just ask your questions, but be prepared to answer mine,” he said, briskly, more bitterly disappointed that Dean had played him than he had any right to be, given the circumstances.

Dean shook himself out of his suddenly somber mood. Without thinking, he reached across and touched Spike’s hand. “No, I wasn’t… okay, maybe a little. I wanted to find out about you and your investigation but… that changed at the diner. He pulled his hand back and looked into Spike’s eyes. 

“I haven’t had such a great time with someone, just sitting and talking in, I don’t know, years. Even if you weren’t x-files, or a Fed, I… like you. I enjoy your company. It doesn’t hurt that you’re hot as hell, either.” Taking a deep breath, knowing it was probably stupid and risky as hell, but needing and wanting to do it, he continued. “I know what hunters are like. They don’t talk to each other, let alone to the law. That’s over for me. Things happened. Things changed. I changed. I’ll work this case with you, if you want. I can help you figure out what’s doing the munching, and probably tell you how to put it down. The vamps… just leave them to me. I kinda specialize in vamps nowadays.”

“Vamps, that’s cute. I call them blood suckers, or hostile number 218’s. Haven’t caught any or put them down,,” Spike said. “What do you know of the ashes or dust? Every so often, when I’ve been chasing a blood sucker and the hunters have gotten there first, there’s all this dust.” He was very careful to keep his hands far, out of Dean’s reach, and he tried not to think about Dean’s claims that the connection between them was real. If they were being watched... 

“They’re vampires. Real ones.” Dean fell silent as the waitress set their meals down. He handed her his list of the meals he needed to take back with him. “There are two types of vamps that I know of. Three types actually, I guess. The most widespread are just vampires, nothing like the lore. Only way to take them out is beheading, and just a drop of their blood can turn you. They have a mouth full of fangs that retract into the gumline. Then there’s the two-fanged variety, a lot like Dracula. Those, you stake through the heart with wood and they turn to dust. There’s your dust. Then there are the nosferatu, or uber-vamps as some call them. Grey-skinned demonic bastards. Beheading is the only way to take them out, but they don’t look human. They can’t blend in. No vampire is susceptible to gunfire, by the way.”

Spike had pulled his notebook out and was scribbling in it as Dean spoke. “So ashes mean ‘staked vamp.’ And the sort you behead, what of them? Do they turn to ash?” he asked. 

“Not ash. Dust. You know, like ‘dust-to-dust.’ The regular vamps? No, if you behead them, you’ve got a messy body to dispose of with blood that could turn you if you ingest it or even have a cut on hand and it gets into it. You salt and burn them. In place, if possible.” Seeing Spike’s blank look, he explained. “Put salt on their body then lighter fluid or gasoline, and torch the body. Hunters torch anything like that, making certain there’s no ghost to come back and there’s nothing left at all to reanimate. A hunter who dies… you wrap ‘em up like a mummy, put them on a pyre and salt and burn them, too.” 

As he wrote, Spike looked up for a second. “Actually, partly ashes, as in ‘ashes to ashes.’” He smirked. “I had the dust tested. You wouldn’t know of a good resource, a text? Or I may be questioning you for hours. Super strength? Are they night creatures? And... is there a way to tell when you’re sitting across from one because it turns out that looking into their mouths is a bloody stupid way to go about it.” He chuckled.

“Hellmouth vamps burst into flames in the sun. The book Dracula got some things right. But I wouldn’t mind being questioned for hours by you. More importantly, I told you, I’ll handle the vamps. The other deaths, we don’t know what they are yet. That’s the first priority.” 

“You’re on the vamps so you think I’m not? Don’t be daft,” Spike snapped. Picking up the chopsticks, he started to eat. “It’s good,” he commented, then went back to business. “Right, you agreed to e-mail me the resources I can study,” Spike said, just assuming Dean would comply. “And these other... things... monsters. They’re dead, too. Whatever the supernatural world’s equivalent is of zombies.”

“Dude, resources are more or less non-existent. I can send you websites that have proven to have decent and fairly dependable lore. I can give you the names of some books. Hunters spend a lot of time in libraries and on the internet. They keep journals of information they find, and there are a few hunter-researchers who can be called on. Journals are usually kept in the family, not shared. It’s just the hunter way.” Dean scooped up some of the beef in his dish with a fork. He wasn’t much on chopsticks, though he could use them if he absolutely had to. As he chewed, he considered the possibilities, then corrected Spike.

“Not zombies. We call them undead. Anything supernatural that doesn’t have a beating heart but is still moving around is generally called undead. Zombies, vampires, ghosts, ghouls, ghasts, wendigos, poltergeists, wraiths, some demons. I dunno, those are the more common things I guess, at least, right off the top of my head. Skinwalkers and shifters aren’t dead. Zombies don’t typically eat people. They’re just sort of a vengeful, evil dopplegangers of what they’d been in life. Short tempered, easy to piss off, but they don’t go for brains. Ghosts can possess people or animals, but the person they possess is still alive. Vamps are blood only. Wendigos are mountain dwellers, and they wouldn’t leave their prey behind. Wraiths, they go for the brain. Ghouls don’t usually go for the living. They haunt cemeteries and eat the recently buried. Ghasts, they’re like ghouls, but kinda up the food chain a little. Supposedly they have a carrion stench that’ll make even the best toss their breakfast.” 

Dean shook his head as he stirred his fork around in the meal. “Not all things supernatural are evil. Take vamps. They need blood, but some of them take only a little, not enough to kill. Or they target the scum of the world. There are even some demons that really don’t have an interest in hurting anyone. They’re happy to live in the shadows. You corner them and don’t give them a choice, they’ll rip you apart. But if you let them run, they’ll run.”

Dean gave a sigh, and nudged most the vegetables to one side of the plate, focusing on picking out the beef and onions and peppers to eat. “I can ask around at the demon bars I guess. It would help if I could get a look at the bodies. If it’s something I’ve gone up against before, I might be able to recognize the injuries.”

As Dean went on, Spike never looked up from furiously taking notes. In his experience, even when he got a hunter to open up on one occasion, they had the tendency to go and clam up afterwards. He wasn’t taking chances or relying on his ability to ask Dean again. “Right. Usually I part with a lot of blunt, trying to get a hunter drunk enough to give it up, the information.” He smirked. “You’re easy, you do it for jasmine tea. I’ll be getting the tab.”

“I don’t drink jasmine tea. I had ‘em bring me coffee. I don’t do froo-froo drinks. So. You want me to take a look at the bodies? I gotta finish up my shift at the blood bank, but I’m free after six. So where should I meet you, Agent Brighton?” Dean’s attention had returned to Spike and he was discreetly admiring the man’s looks. His scent was rich and smelled of adventure.

Spike’s piercing gaze met Dean’s. The bloke was pretty damned sure of himself, and had reason to be. “Know where the Treehouse is? Meet me downstairs, in the coffee shop. I’ll bring pictures. Bring my file,” he said, thinking he’d take his laptop too. In case anyone was watching, it would be clear it was a working meeting, not a date. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I know the place,” he said. “Can I ask you something without you getting all crazy or weird on me?”

About to pop his food into mouth, Spike stopped and cocked his head to the side. “Probably unwise of me, but … right, go ahead.”

“Who are you afraid of? You don’t have a boss watching you. So who is watching you?” Dean asked. He found his gaze drawn to Spike’s lips and for just a moment imagined tasting them.

Raising a brow, Spike asked, “What makes you think I’m afraid?”

“I touched your hand. You moved it so far out of reach it was practically in the next county. We shake hands when you arrive, shake hands when we leave… you’re afraid someone will think you and I are friends, rather than business associates. I was just wondering who.” Dean scooped up some more of the meat and onions.

“It doesn’t matter, because that’s what we are. Business associates. The FBI consulting with a hunter, that’s it... that’s all it can be.” Spike’s tone was firm, though he couldn’t quite keep the regret out of his voice. “If it’s something more you want from me, I told you... I was serious about what I said when we first met.” 

“I’m not a hunter anymore,” Dean said. “Like I said, I’ve changed. But you’re wrong. It could be more, even if only a one-night stand. Whatever you’re afraid of, I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself, and one night doesn’t mean I expect a second night or a commitment. Fact is, I don’t do long term relationships.” Dean leaned back and smiled at Spike as he brought his coffee to his lips and took a sip. “So don’t mind me if I keep barking. I’m stubborn sometimes.”

“I see that.” Spike stared at him for a long moment. That devastating smile of his had his pulse racing, just like that. Spike ran a hand over his face, and took a deep breath. “Do us both a favor and don’t bark too loud,” he finally said. “I would... miss this.” He couldn’t help wanting this… the light flirting and the heated looks... to go on. He just couldn’t afford to let it go beyond that, and he needed to be clear. “A lot.” 

“I’m the master of discrete,” Dean said in a deep, serious voice, then began chuckling. “Okay, maybe I suck at discrete… sometimes. And I would miss this, too. It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone that,” he glanced into Spike’s blue eyes, “I just enjoy hanging out with and being around. It’s kinda cool. I can even tell crazy-ass stories about shit I’ve done and you’ll know it’s not just a crazy-ass story. That’s kinda cool, too.” Dean waved at one of the waitstaff and indicated he wanted a box for his lunch.

“Hold on now, didn’t say I buy everything you tell me. Some of it is bloody unbelievable,” he said, giving Dean a look. “Ghosts and wraiths... next you’ll be telling me fairies are real.” His gaze dropped to Dean’s almost full plate and he frowned slightly.

“They are. Mean little bitches, too. Blow up nice in a microwave though,” Dean said. He held up his hand. “God’s honest truth, they’re real. So are leprechauns but the one I ran into wasn’t short or anything. And they eat first borns. Ghosts and wraiths, real. Bigfoot’s a hoax as far as I know, for what that’s worth.” Dean nodded his thanks when a waitress dropped off the box. He began scraping just the meat, onion and peppers into the box and set the fried wonton in there, then changing his mind and decided to eat it. “These things are awesome and don’t reheat worth a shit.” He eyed Spike’s wonton on his plate.

“Eggrolls, too,” Spike said, nodding at the side plate next to Dean’s elbow and eating faster. “If you’re on the clock and need to run... go on,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, then picking the chop sticks up again. It was too good to leave off, and he was starving.

“Nah, I just want to have something for dinner tonight and if I don’t put this in a box now, I’ll just keep picking at it. You don’t need to rush. I can’t go anywhere until the orders for my coworkers are ready. I think they’d shoot me if I came back empty handed, even if I did blather on and on about the friend I had lunch with.” Dean put some sweet sauce down and dipped the spring roll in it. He bit into the end and grinned. “I love the way they crunch,” he said around a half-full mouth.

Spike gave a close mouthed smile, thinking how much he loved the way the red sauce coated Dean’s lip, and the way he licked it off. Right. Friends. Business associates, that’s all, he firmly told himself. 

Dean swirled the egg roll around in the sauce and took another bite. Just like the hunter part of him was strong, his love of food was strong and he ate more human food than most vampires, at least, so he gathered from the few others he talked to, those who didn’t kill humans.

Watching Spike work those chopsticks, he shook his head. “Where did you learn to wield those chopsticks? You spend time in the Far East?” 

“If you can wield a knife or gun, this is easy. Look...” Spike demonstrated where to put each finger and then scissored his chopsticks. Without thinking, he pushed them into Dean’s hand and started to position Dean’s fingers, but the jolt of electricity that went through him made him freeze, his eyes locking with Dean’s. “It’s not important. A fork will do just as well, he said, taking the chopsticks back. But he couldn’t take back the feelings coursing through him. The excitement. 

It was bad. Real bad. Tonight would have to be the last time he saw Dean. It was as simple as that. Only not.

Dean’s gaze was still locked with Spike’s when he heard Spike’s heart rate shoot through the roof, when he felt the charge between them. Then Spike grabbed back the chopsticks and tried to pretend it never happened, that there was nothing between them. And it was damned stupid of Dean to even think of having a fling with the FBI guy. That was like dating a slayer. Soon as his date figured out he was a vampire, he was dead. Staked. Dusted. 

“Yeah, forks are easier,” Dean said absently. Dangerous or not, he wanted Spike. At least for one roll in the hay. One kiss. Something. Something more than Spike seemed willing to give. “Would it make you feel better if I pulled out my notebook and started asking you more questions about the case?” Dean asked. “Oh, and for the record. I am easy. Just so you know.”

“Don’t even have to be in the FBI to figure that one out.” Snorting, Spike motioned to a waitress to bring the check. Wiping his mouth, he reached for his tea and avoided Dean’s eyes. 

When the waitress came, he had his credit card ready and didn’t check the bill. He needed to get away before he gave in to any stupid impulses. 

“Hey, make sure my coworkers lunches aren’t on the bill,” Dean said but Spike had already handed over his credit card. He tilted his head and looked at Spike. “Man, I really scare the hell out of you, don’t I?” He reached out and snatched the fried wonton from Spike’s plate.

Shifting to Dean, Spike’s gaze sharpened. “I’d have you for breakfast.” If I could. This man was too direct. Too used to getting what he wanted. The problem was that Spike wanted it, too. He hadn’t sat this close to temptation in a long time. “Here come your to-go orders,” he nodded toward the waiter walking up to them, relieved that Dean would have something to keep him busy.

“Is that an offer for me to spend the night, Agent?” Dean asked, knowing full well it wasn’t, but wanting Spike to know he wasn’t done with him yet. Not by a longshot.

Signing the credit card slip in record time, Spike got up. “Don’t hold your breath, I like you alive and kicking.” Spike didn’t reach out to shake hands, but merely gave a nod, and headed for the door as he shoved his wallet into the pocket of his leather trench coat.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean was more than pissed when Spike cancelled on them getting together that night to work the case. He was also disappointed, and maybe even a little hurt. Spike was bad for him. He tried to tell himself that. He’d never needed anyone--which was a lie he always told himself. He’d needed his mother, his father, Pastor Jim, Bobby, Sammy… he was lonely, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to actually admit that fact to himself. He just told himself Spike was simply too hot to pass up. That Spike was too good of company to let slip through his fingers. That he just needed a one nighter with the guy to get him out of his system.

Fine, if Spike wouldn’t come to him, he’d go to Spike. He ate, did his patrol to let the bad guys know he was around and that the place was definitely still his, then headed to Spike’s hotel. The guy kept late hours. He could be at the diner. Dean could also pay whoever was at the desk to tell him if Spike had ordered any food recently, or coffee, and what room Spike was in. He was going to find the guy, trap him against a wall, and at least get one good kiss.

*

It was almost three a.m. and Spike was the only person in the hotel’s 24 hour gym. All the sane people had gone to bed.

Between coffee and unwanted thoughts of a certain green-eyed devil he wished he’d never laid eyes on, Spike was too wound up to go to sleep. Instead, he was doing sit ups while hanging from a pull up bar, and desperately trying to clear his mind.

It was impossible. If he didn’t think about Dean, his thoughts indirectly lead to him anyway. He’d wonder whether Dean would send the information he’d asked for. Whether the description he’d given in the e-mail would be enough to give Dean something to go on. Or whether Dean would ignore the e-mails altogether. Not that Spike could blame him.

 _Get out of my mind. Out_. Crossing his arms over his chest, Spike lifted up faster and higher, pushing his body as far as it would go. Pain was a good countermeasure to heartache and lust, or so he hoped. 

“I thought you might be in the diner, so I checked there. But you weren’t.” Dean said as he walked up to Spike’s gleaming, sweaty body. “So I decided to check here and see what room you were in. And here you are, awake, heart pounding, sweaty, sending my mind all sorts of places. Doing a sixty-nine standing up, damn, I bet that would be something.” Dean stepped up closer, and ran his hand down Spike’s lean sides. “Really something,” he murmured. 

Spike had been concentrating so hard on _not thinking_ about this man, that finding him right there, in front of him, worming his way into his mind, saying things that he wouldn’t quickly forget, and sending an unwanted thrill through him just by touching him, was infuriating. Finding himself at a disadvantage and not having heard his footfalls, was doubly so.

Grabbing the bar, Spike dismounted. “Anyone ever tell you that you walk like a spook,” he demanded. There wasn’t any welcoming warmth in his eyes, despite his body’s completely opposite reaction.

Dean didn’t step back to give Spike room. “Years as a hunter, I suppose,” Dean mused, admiring Spike’s face and the way the guy’s short hair seemed to go every which way. Those warm, flushed cheeks, and those red lips. He could hear Spike’s pounding heart and the blood flooding the man’s system. Warm, spicy blood that he’d give near anything to taste.

He pushed his demon back. He wouldn’t bite Spike. As much as he wanted to, he wouldn’t. “So what now, Mr. FBI man? I’ll show you my gun if you show me yours.” 

For an unguarded second, Spike’s gaze dropped to Dean’s lips, but he quickly looked up. “If that’s what you’re here for, you’ve wasted your time, yeah?” Seeing the determination in Dean’s eyes, Spike tensed, his jaw pulsing. “Right. You’re worked up and think you need something from me.” Spike pushed Dean back. “Go home, or go to the club. Get your rocks off, and you’ll feel better, I promise you.” 

Dean allowed Spike to push him back a step, only to grab Spike, pull him around, and press him to a sitting position on the weight bench. “I don’t _need_ something from you. But I _want_ something from you. When I sleep, I see your ocean blue eyes there. I’m not used to that. I’m not used to wanting someone like I want you. And I want you, Spike. A kiss, a one-nighter, spooned up against you, or you against me. Just one night, to sleep with someone I actually want to sleep with, someone who I know by first and last name. Ask me to stay. Or just fucking kiss me.” Dean dropped to his knees in front of Spike and slipped between his thighs. He looked into Spike’s eyes. “Kiss me,” he demanded softly.

Spike tried to look away, but couldn’t. Instead of telling Dean to “fuck off,” he found himself fighting his own demons. For years, he’d been with faceless, nameless men. No meaningful words exchanged, no one to tell him they liked something particular about him. And now...here...

“You don’t fight fair,” Spike whispered as an invisible force tugged him toward Dean. Danger. Repercussions. All the things he should be thinking of flew out the window as he brought his mouth down over Dean’s, closed his arms around him, and kissed him. 

Dean’s lips were firm and soft and moved so perfectly against his. Every last nerve ending in his body seemed to fire. Groaning, Spike moved his hand behind Dean’s head and deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue with Dean’s in a heated battle. 

It was better than Dean had imagined. Fire burned inside him, and a hunger like he hadn’t had in years swelled up. For a moment, he forgot who he was, what he’d become, what he’d done when he’d first been turned. For a moment, he was just a young man kissing another young man and he felt human.

Dean wrapped his arms around Spike, kissing him more intensely as their tongues warred, their teeth clinked, lips brushing against each other’s, and Dean wanted more.

Spike found himself tightening his knees, bracketing them against Dean’s sides, holding him in place. The kiss grew so hot, so intense, it eclipsed everything else. Spike broke the kiss only to take a deep breath, but almost before he was ready, he found Dean’s mouth plastered to his again.

Fires burned inside him. Need pounded at his temples. Rising slightly off the bench, Spike toppled forward, taking Dean with him.

“Hey! You have a room, use it!” the guy behind the desk yelled into the gym. 

Dean ignored the guy. Spike was lying on top of him, pressing down against his erection, and Dean wished they were skin to skin. He kissed Spike feverishly. “Want you. Want you so bad,” he whispered between kisses, his hand roving over Spike’s back, feeling every ridge of muscle, every vertebra along his spine. Inhaling deeply, he took in Spike’s heady scent. So rich, so aroused, so perfect. 

It took some time for the guy’s shout to register, for Spike to process it over all the sensations he was feeling, all the needs Dean was stirring inside him. It took him another few seconds to realize he was about to give Dean anything Dean wanted. That he was about to lift up only to undress Dean, or take him back to his room. 

It all came to a screeching halt when reality came crashing into Spike. If one person had seen them together, someone else... or _something_ else might have. Abruptly tearing free of Dean, he sat up and took a few deep breaths, before looking down at Dean, his eyes still wild with the heat of his passion. “I _can’t_ do this.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair and wondered whether he’d just put Dean in danger. “Fucking hell...” 

“The hell? Why? You can’t just--” Dean sat up, his erection tenting his jeans. “Then let’s go to your room. Now.” He pressed his lips to Spike’s, unable to get enough of the taste of the man, and rose to his feet, taking Spike along with him. 

Dean’s strength surprised Spike. His kisses, seduced him. It took everything Spike had to push Dean away again, though channeling his fear from a few seconds ago did the trick. Staring into Dean’s eyes brimming with confusion and anger, Spike almost relented. Almost.

Then he took a big step back, and raised his hands. “No. We have to stop. It’s not what I want. It’s how it has to be,” he said, his voice ragged. “Listen. Is there any way you can get out of town? For a few days... a week?” he asked, forcing himself not to flinch away from Dean’s stare. 

“Tell me why,” Dean demanded, the demon inside him demanding at least one of his desperate hungers be sated.

“If I tell you, will you leave?” Spike demanded right back. “I’ll drive you to the airport, fix it with your employer... whatever it takes,” he said, some of his desperation showing. 

“I can’t promise I’ll leave, but I’ll listen to what you have to say, really listen. That I can promise you. So talk.”

“You’re a stubborn bastard,” Spike spat, frustrated for more than one reason. “If you don’t agree, then I’ll bloody well find some reason to put you into custody, you got that?” Turning his back on Dean, he went to get the tee shirt he’d hung on a rail. 

When he returned, he wiped his face with the shirt and evaluated Dean’s expression and body language. He could tell that Dean was going to be a problem. 

“Stop beating around the god-damned bush and tell me what the hell is going on,” Dean demanded, getting equally frustrated by Spike’s lack of clarity and forthrightness. 

“I’m not beating around anything, I just want-- I want you to be safe. I don’t want your blood on my hands.” Spike spread his hands out. “I’ve got myself a stalker. Don’t know if it’s a person. It might be a _thing._ That _thing_ that I told you happened in college, what drove me here?” He gave a nod to indicate that this was the explanation. “Anyone I get close to. Anyone I sleep with, except for what you saw at the club... anyone I can form an attachment with is fair game. Is that clear enough for you?” he demanded.

Dean’s brow creased. A lot of Spike’s slightly odd behavior making more sense now. “That seriously sucks, dude,” he finally said. Dean stepped closer to Spike and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not easy to kill. And I’ve fought evil shit since I was old enough to hold a gun. Look, if it’s seen us together, I’m already a target. Obviously you think so or you wouldn’t want me to take a flight to Katmandu or something. Even if I go, I’m still a target. I don’t do ‘being a target,’ but I’m good at playing bait, if I’ve got back-up. Let’s go to your room. You’re going to tell me how it’s taken out your other lovers and attachments. We’ll figure out if your stalker is human or supernatural. Also, if I know how it kills, I’m better prepared to defend myself. Then you and I can work together to take out this stalker. And then I expect some damned hot sex. Even if we’ve already had damned hot sex. Cause hey, if I’m already a target, let’s at least make it worthwhile.”

All the words. The false hope. The bravado. The determination and confidence radiating from Dean--it sent a shard of ice into Spike’s gut. He cocked his head to the side. “You think you’re the first person who’s said that? You’re wrong. I’ve been here, _right here_ before, mate, and it didn’t work out so well for my partner who was not only a special agent but had gone on two tours to Iraq.” Shrugging Dean’s hand off his shoulder, Spike took a step back.

“You and I, we haven’t slept together. If we do, then your fate’s sealed and I’ll have nothing to do with it, not this time.” Spike’s nostrils flared at the memory of going home and following a trail of discarded clothing on the floor of his house, which he thought meant the promise of sex, and finding his lover’s blood painting almost every inch of the wall and the bed in their room. “You’re leaving, for Kathmandu, or wherever you want. I’ll take care of it,” he said with finality.

Dean straightened. “No. I’m not leaving. I know where you’re standing, because I’ve stood there. My family’s stalker took out anyone and everyone who ever even knew us. I’ve got a brother out there, but I don’t dare let him know I’m alive. I’ve got a few friends who are still alive because they’re hunters. The stalker took out some of them, but that was before we knew it was back.” Dean shook his head. “I’m no saint. I’m no coward. This city is my home now. It’s going to stay my home. I’ll hunt your fucking stalker down myself and take it out. I haven’t--” Dean closed his mouth, a muscle in his jaw pulsing. “I didn’t even know I could still feel like this. That someone could still make my blood pound, that someone could make me want to get up out of bed, just in hopes of seeing him. You can’t tell me you don’t feel it or that if your stalker was gone, you wouldn’t be mine. I’d be yours. I feel like--like I already am. And you’ve got no idea how weird that is for me to say. I don’t do permanent. At least, I didn’t think I did, until I met you.”

Spike’s heart flip flopped in his chest. Warning bells rang in his head. These were the exact feelings he’d tried to train himself to suppress. He’d been bloody good at it the last few years, until he’d tripped over green eyes here. “Wait for me,’ he said, trying to hide his emotions, to bury them as deep as he could. “Don’t move.”

Turning slowly, he grabbed his tee shirt again, and his phone, looked over at Dean, and walked out of the double glass doors to the lobby. By the time he reached the elevator, he was speaking on the phone.

It didn’t take long. Ten minutes perhaps, and then there was a swarm of FBI agents surrounding Dean in the gym.

“This way, Sir,” one of them said, holding the door open for Dean. “We’re taking you into protective custody.”

“You’re shitting me,” Dean said looking at the agents around him. Giving a frustrated sigh, he walked through the doorway and let them put him in the back of a black SUV. Too many cameras around to do anything but play along. He waited patiently until the vehicles were well away from the hotel. Then he punched the guy sitting beside him, popped open the door and jumped out of the moving SUV. He rolled, sprang to his feet and ran into the nearby alley. It was dark and that’s all he needed. From here, he could lose the agents without drawing any suspicion down on himself. And he had a certain FBI agent he needed to have a word with.

* * * 

It took a while for Spike to register discomfort. Leaning his head against the tile, he’d barely noticed that the water was scalding hot. Adjusting the temperature, he threw his head back and let the water wash over him. If only it would also wash away his history, and all the blood that had run, and the blood that might run if Dean had his way. He couldn’t bear the thought.

Wiping his hand over his face, he took a deep breath. In a few hours, Dean would be away and in a safe place. Spike wouldn’t have to bend too many rules. The Bureau knew he had an active stalker and what the stalker had done. They’d find Dean a new life, if he wanted it, or give him protection for a few months and then let him come back. So far, no one he hadn’t actually had sex with had been killed, though there had been warning signs when he showed interest in an individual. If he kept away from Dean--it would work out, it had to.

He felt his shoulders shaking, and then he was practically sobbing. Bloody hell, it’s what happened when someone uncorked the feelings you’d bottled up. “Arsehole,” he ground out, visualizing Dean. And yet, all he could see was the blasted man’s smile. “Bloody fucking hell,” he said, punching the wall, then shaking his hand out. A little blood streamed from his knuckles and dripped down to the floor drain.

*

Dean didn’t have any trouble slipping into Spike’s hotel room. He heard the shower going and decided to look around a bit. Spike’s wallet was on the desk and he flipped through it. His card was still there and it looked like it had been taken out and handled several times, with bent corners, a bit of ketchup in one spot, and it looked like it had been wadded up at least once, only to be flattened back out. What really caught his eye though were the manilla folders.

Sitting down at the desk he began to scan through them. “Yahtzee,” he muttered as he found the set on Spike’s stalker and started making notes on the hotel stationery. He heard Spike’s mutterings and figured Spike was talking either about Dean or himself. He heard the thump and smelled the blood. It took a lot to keep the demon back. He wanted to taste Spike’s blood, but he wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t do that.

When he heard the shower shut off, he folded up the notes he’d made and stuck them in his pocket, then kept reading the files. 

* 

Spike had just finished securing a towel around his waist when he thought he heard a soft sound from the bedroom. Immediately reaching for the pistol on the counter, on top of his sweats, he opened the door a crack, trying to get a visual.

When he stepped into the short hall, he held the gun in front of him, then walked into the bedroom, his aim going right to the man sitting at the desk next to the window. “You.” He let out an exasperated breath, and lowered the weapon, a dark expression forming when he saw Dean was rifling through his personal file.

“You do not get ‘glare’ rights. You were not surrounded by the men in black and hauled off in an SUV while you were being pretty well behaved waiting in the gym for the guy you’re apparently somewhat crazy for,” Dean said glancing up from the folder contents to see Spike standing there with just a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Oh, fuck,” Dean whispered, swallowing hard as his eyes drank in the bare-chested agent.

The heat in Dean’s eyes, the longing in his voice, stopped the tide of angry words about to spill from Spike’s lips. Instead, his eyes locked with Dean’s, his mouth burning for another kiss. He shook his head in denial, but it was barely perceptible. “Please...” he pleaded. One of them had to see sense.

Dean was on his feet and in a few strides reached Spike. He looked down into Spike’s eyes, cupping the side of his face with his palm as he wrapped his arm around Spike’s waist and pulled Spike up against him. “You’re even more gorgeous than I’d imagined. I want to kiss you. I want to make love to you. Let me. Please.” The demon in him railed at the request. Vampires took what they wanted! Dean forced the demon back. It had to be Spike’s choice. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t force the guy. Though he swore to himself he would steal a final kiss if Spike rebuked him again.

Spike’s hands automatically went to Dean’s hips. He held him there, neither pulling him closer nor pushing him away. Every fiber of his being said _yes_. Yes, he wanted this. Needed this. It had been keeping him awake and distracted, and maybe if he gave in to it... He started to sway closer, his lips just brushing Dean’s lips, feeling them part. 

Abruptly, he pulled his mouth away. “Did you see the pictures?” he asked, his voice tight, raw. “In Uni. My roommate. It was only the one time. We were both drunk, and no one could have seen. But he … it... _knew._. Just that one time, doors and windows closed.” He closed his eyes, trying not to draw in Dean’s enticing scent. Trying to shut him out, even if he was right there, practically up against him, and they were holding onto each other as if they were about to make love. 

“Yeah. I saw. And the next one, in New York. Then D.C., then Philly. I saw, Spike. Yeah, you have a deadly stalker. And I don’t give a damn. It’s noted and I’ll be careful. This is on me now. Not you. I accept the risk.” Dean pressed his lips against Spike’s, kissing him with all the fire burning inside him.

“Ngh... but...” Under the assault of Dean’s hot, fiery kisses, not a single intelligible word came to Spike. He kissed back, pushed back, fighting for everything that had been denied to him. His hands roved over Dean’s back and firm, sweet arse, that had been off limits for so long. 

A deep groan escaped him as he pushed Dean backwards toward the bed. They landed with a hard thud. He had his knee between Dean’s legs, felt how hard he was inside his jeans. His own towel had come apart. His world was spinning out of control too fast. _Please God._ He stretched his arm towards the nightstand, then rolled off and sat up abruptly, breathing hard as he stared down at Dean, whose wrist he’d cuffed to the metal railing of the headboard. “I can’t risk you,” he said thickly. “I save people or hunt down their killers. I can’t live with one more... mistake.” 

It took Dean a moment to realize what Spike had done. His gaze travelled down Spike’s front, to his stiff, hard cock. Then he twisted his head and looked at the handcuff. His gaze returned to Spike. 

Taking a deep breath out of simple habit, he gave a curt nod. He got it. ‘No’ meant ‘no’ and Spike needed him to hear it. The cuff on his wrist--yeah. It wasn’t going to happen and Dean had to accept it, whether he wanted to or not.

Without a word he gave a sharp tug on the cuffs, breaking the chain between them and slowly sat up. He didn’t even realize a tear slipped out of his eye and rolled down his cheek--when was the last time he’d felt such emotions?

“You’re making one now. A mistake. Letting me go. I could help you find it. I could help you kill it. But I won’t force myself on you.” Dean pulled Spike into a mind-numbing kiss, pouring his soul into it. Then he released Spike and turned away. “You know where I am if you change your mind.” 

It happened so fast, Spike didn’t have time to think. His kisses were real, even as he processed what he’d seen, and his heart started to sink. Then Dean moved away, and Spike felt like his heart had been torn out of his body. 

Scrambling off the bed, stark naked, he closed his hand around the gun he’d put down earlier. His hand was a little shaky as he pointed it at Dean, but he managed to steady it. Betrayal was a bitch.

He swallowed hard. “Drop the act. Admit it. You’re it, you’re my stalker,” Spike said, circling around, his own eyes stinging as he flicked the safety off.

Dean looked at him and gave a snort. “No, I’m not your stalker. Never been to England and planes scare the shit out of me. My real name is Dean Winchester. Born in Lawrence, Kansas. Look me up. I am a little older than you might guess. If you still think I’m your stalker,” he shrugged. “I work at the blood bank in about ten hours. Or shoot me, now. Doesn’t really matter to me at this point. That bloody thing lying on your bed is the heart I wasn’t really sure I had anymore. Do you know that I haven’t cried in probably twenty years?” He met the blue gaze of the agent. “So make your choice. Shoot me or let me go.” He reached over and picked up the key to the handcuffs and unlocked the one that was still around his wrist. He tossed the keys back on the table along with the broken cuff. “Easier than trying to pick it with a paperclip,” he said with a shrug.

Though a battle waged inside Spike, he knew damned well he was never going to pull the trigger. His gaze went to the empty bed. His own lost heart was right there with Dean’s. Right bloody there next to it.

Slowly, he lowered the gun. “Winchester.” He committed the name to memory. “Not a hunter. And not human.” 

“Was a hunter. Was human. I fucked up. Found something more badass than me. After a whole lot of torture, he wouldn’t even let me die. Got a demon in me now.” Dean gave a soft, bitter laugh. “But I was a hunter for so long--it took time, but I got the demon under control. My dad, he ingrained in me that every last supernatural bastard deserves death. Turns out he was wrong, but it kept me… closer to human. I did enough good after that, that a hoodoo priestess got me my soul back. Well, she made me prove myself, to earn it back.” His eyes were dispassionate as he looked at Spike. “Sometimes I really wish she hadn’t. Having a conscience sucks out loud.”

Dean spread his hands. “Good luck, Spike. Whatever you’ve got hunting you is a mean bastard. You or your family line sure pissed something off, if those files are any indication. Now, if you’ll step aside, I’ll be on my way.”

He didn’t want to, but Spike stepped aside. He wanted to say that he knew there were non-human things that weren’t evil, that he’d even fought on the same side a few times, but the words stuck in his throat. He wanted to wind time back, but how could this moment ever turn out differently? He still had something watching his every move, and he still wanted to protect Dean... whatever he was. But he’d already hurt him, he could see that. “Sorry,” he said softly, his eyes laser focused on Dean.

“Yeah. Me, too.” Dean choked up just a moment but forced himself to smile. “Another blood drive coming up soon. Maybe I’ll see you.” He knew he wouldn’t, but he had to put it out there. The universe delighted in proving him wrong, after all.

He tore his gaze away from Spike and walked to the door, pausing as he gripped the knob. “A line of salt at doors and windows, it keeps a lot of evil things out. Might work on your stalker.” He turned the knob and slipped out the door, angrily brushing away another tear.

When the door closed, Spike felt the strength drain out of him. He dropped down on the bed, rolled onto his side and drew a sheet over his naked body. Dean’s scent was on his sheets, and on the pillow. He closed his eyes and tried to visualize him, but couldn’t. “Sorry,” he whispered again, feeling miserable and powerless. And lonely. More lonely than he’d felt in years.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean knew he should let it go, let Spike go, but he couldn’t. If he could find out who or what the stalker was, he could get it out of Spike’s life. Maybe then, Spike could move on then. Find someone to be happy with, whether it was Dean or someone else. Find someone like Sam had done. 

Dean had been surprised as hell when he saw the announcement about one Sarah Blake. She was the art dealer they’d met all those years ago with the ghostly little girl in the painting who was killing people. Sam had apparently gone back and visited her and whatever had been between them blossomed. Sam had married her and taken her name. According to the announcement, they’d named their baby boy Dean. They’d had two more kids since, both girls. His namesake was in high school now.

Dean focused back on the task at hand. Who was haunting Spike? Who was killing Spike’s lovers? He reviewed the notes he’d made but nothing leapt out at him except the numbers that were at every killing. 20+8, whatever the hell that meant. He asked around discreetly at demon bars and even stalked Spike himself, trying to spot the real stalker. Either the stalker was very good, or else they didn’t watch Spike all the time. 

It was difficult following Spike around and learning about the bodies that were piling up in the case he was investigating, yet hanging back. He couldn’t bring himself to offer to help, both because he didn’t want to tip Spike off to the fact he was keeping an eye on him and to avoid being rebuked again. The last time still hurt, even if he understood why Spike said ‘no.’

*

Spike threw himself into work, which wasn’t difficult with the murderers striking almost every day now. The FBI’s profilers were on the case too, but he knew this wasn’t a standard serial killer, or killers. This was something down his alley. His and Jo’s.

He hadn’t received any more emails or information from Dean, but he and Jo scoured everything the ex-hunter had given him. He couldn’t sleep anyway, so he’d started arranging to have access to the local library after hours and spent a lot of time studying.

He tried to learn everything he could, things that could help him with the current case, and things that might help in the future. Mostly, he tried to keep his mind busy. Every once in awhile, he’d pick up his phone and pull up Dean’s number. His finger would hover over the green call icon, and then his conscience would win out and he’d shut the phone.

Didn’t mean he didn’t miss the guy. Or care. He made sure that the local authorities kept watch on and off, doing extra drive bys around the blood bank that Dean worked at. Spike hadn’t been able to pin down where Dean lived though. None of the law enforcement personnel that tried to tail Dean had discovered where he disappeared to at nights.

The only things Spike had been able to find out about Dean was that the bloke was older than he looked. Spike had put him in his mid-twenties but according to his birth certificate, Dean was in his late forties. Course there was also a death certificate for him. Maybe it was a hunter thing. Generally, his story checked out.

*

It was just before dawn. Dressed in sweats, Spike jogged on the beach. It was cold, dark and lonely. And he was armed to the teeth. 

They’d caught a bit of a break looking at some of the CCTV captures around the sites of the murders. If the videos were to be believed, a few of the victims had ‘come back to life.’ 

Spike had checked the morgues and the bodies were right where they belonged. The victims had not risen from the dead. This meant the killers were taking on the appearance of their latest victims. He recalled Dean had told him about shifters and certain other creatures capable of taking on the shapes and memories of their victims. After that recollection, something slipped into place. Following the breadcrumbs left by the trail of bodies became a game of ‘six degrees of separation.’ Each time someone died, the new victim’s death could be linked to a prior victim’s hobbies. A knitter died, and the next victim was found in the parking lot of a crafts store. That victim was an avid boater, and the next death took place at the docks. 

Yesterday’s victim had been a jogger, and this strip of beach was his favorite. 

* 

Dean had gotten off work and decided to check on his almost-boyfriend. It had sort of become a habit. He got off work, lost the tails whenever someone tried to follow him home, then played a game of ‘where’s Spike?’ Working at the blood bank, they had the police and fire scanners on so they pretty much knew if anything major went down. That was true of information regarding the bodies left behind by the serial killers, too. This meant not only that Dean walked more than one co-worker to their, but also he often had a clue as to where Spike might be. .

Tonight, Dean checked the library first, but Spike wasn’t there. Wasn’t at the diner, or even the hotel. Course in his room, he found clues indiating that Spike thought the next victim was going to be jogging on a beach. He paused long enough to pick up Spike’s leather jacket. It smelled strongly of the man’s essence and Dean’s blood still seemed to rush faster inside him when he smelled Spike or saw him.

Dean couldn’t help himself and headed out to the beach Spike’s notes suggested he’d be at. He positioned himself downwind and settled in the shadows, catching the barest hint of Spike’s scent and finding himself smiling and imagining blue eyes. 

*

Three kids ran towards Spike, calling for help. Spike assessed their approximate ages as fourteen or fifteen, tennish, and maybe six. They seemed in distress, like they’d seen something.

He headed towards them, wondering if the unsubs had struck and these kids had come across the body. Reaching them, he slowed down. “What’s the problem?” he asked, holding his question about what they were doing out here before the sun was up.

“It’s our dad, he collapsed,” the youngest cried out pointing. 

Spike turned to see where she pointed. “Collapsed,” he echoed. That was a big word for a six year old. “What did he collapse from.”

The teen shrugged. “Can you help us? Please.”

Spike looked him over. His gut said trouble. “Sure. Got my cell right here, I’ll get him some help,” he said, starting to jog with them.

There was a body on the beach. He could hear groans from the man who kept trying to raise himself up. Maybe he’d been wrong about the kids. Maybe it was just a family on vacation and their father had a heart attack.

From a distance, Dean watched as the kids approached Spike, and then led him toward another body. Then he caught their scent. Dean pulled out his phone and dialed Spike’s cell.

Because his adrenalin was going, the sound almost had Spike reaching for his gun. Cursing, he pulled his phone off the clip at his waist instead.

“Hurry... please....” one of the kids said, taking Spike’s free hand and dragging him towards their dad. 

Seeing Dean’s name flash on the phone, Spike hesitated. But the thought that Dean might be in trouble had him taking the call. “Everything alright?” he asked, still being tugged and trying to focus on what was going on around him. 

“They’re undead. The kids. They reek of it. The body on the sand, too. Get out of there,” Dean said. “Tell me to call 9-1-1 if you want my help.”

“Everything’s under control.” Spike hung up. He couldn’t allow himself to think about the fact that Dean was around, or to ask why, or to process how he felt about it. Undead. That meant not shapeshifters. He hoped it meant ghouls, because that meant a gunshot to the brain would do it.

Pulling his hand out of the kid’s hand, he tried to maneuver so that there was more space between himself and the others, but they noticed. The ‘father’ stood up, and if it had just been the three kids and the father, it would have been fine. Instead, more ghouls separated from shadows, or got up from the sand. And this was why Jo warned him against playing ‘Maverick.”

Spike pulled his gun out of the holster at his back and barely got a warning out before the ghouls attacked. He forgot about Dean, forgot about everything, let it all fade away. Survival instinct took over.

Everything slowed for the span of three heartbeats as he assessed what he was up against, and then he was aiming and shooting, diving away from grasping hands. It wasn’t all about the guns, not with supernatural things, he’d learned that lesson. But it was the cleaner way to put these things down, if the books were right.

Swinging his leg around, he knocked one of the grown-up ghouls to the ground, stepped on his chest, and shot it through the temple. Feeling a hand grasp at his shoulder, he snapped, “I don’t dance with dead things,” and reaching back, he bent forward at the same time, tossing the ghoul down over his shoulder.

Dean had settled back in the shadows. At least the dead things wouldn’t get the drop on Spike, and that had been his biggest concern. At least until he saw another handful of ‘people’ appear and start to attack Spike. Where the hell was Spike’s back up?

Cursing, he sprinted out of the shadows and up the beach, pulling his pearl-handled 9mm in the process. Flicking off the safety, he didn’t hesitate to fire while running. Seeing Spike go for headshots, the way the things smelled, and the information of victims being eaten alive pretty much confirmed Dean’s suspicions it was potentially ghouls who were the culprits. Figuring Spike might have issues shooting the kids, that’s where he focused his gunfire. 

As more of them came in waves, Spike admitted to himself he might not have been able to handle this on his own and was grateful for the approaching assistance. The man’s aim was deadly, and he never hesitated. More bodies fell to the ground around him, and Spike managed to give Dean a nod when a ghoul who’d gotten too close lost its head, literally.

Their fighting styles were completely different. Spike’s moves were a little more showy. He used his whole body, used his legs a lot, sweeping them around and kicking, and he used back flips to move in and out of the action. Dean took the more direct approach, like some cowboy out of his television, thought Spike.

Sand flew. Shots rang out. Bodies dropped. And then there was only one ghoul left. A toddler clinging to Spike’s leg and looking up at the FBI agent. 

Spike used the barrel of his pistol to push the toddler’s head back, keeping the toddler’s mouth away from his leg. Spike’s nostrils flared. He grit his teeth. It wasn’t a child. Not really. The wild and crazed look in its eyes, and its attempts to bite him were proof enough, but Spike had never had to put down any creature that looked like a human toddler. Pull the bloody trigger.. 

Dean saw Spike’s hesitation. He understood it. But he’d seen far too many evils in the guise of a child. He stopped, took careful aim, and put three bullets in the toddlers head. “They’re always the hardest. The ones that look innocent, who look like kids. They were all undead though. I promise you that.” Dean began walking around the bodies, confirming all the ghouls were taken out.

Spike stood looking down at the child at his feet, the blood draining out of his head and into the sand. “I know.” He looked up, his gaze following Dean around. “I seem to attract stalkers,” he said. His tone was neutral, but his eyes, they were full of emotion. 

Satisfied all the ghouls were completely dead, Dean moved to stand in front of Spike, but kept a couple steps between them. “I got off work an hour or so ago. Needed to do something to wind down before I crashed. You were convenient,” Dean said, his gaze locking with Spike’s. He wanted to kiss him. Standing this close, smelling his scent, hearing the way his heart raced, knowing that with the adrenalin in it, Spike’s blood would be exquisite. “I guess...I guess I should go before the cops show up.” He didn’t actually make any move to leave.

“Especially if you don’t have a license to carry,” Spike answered. His gaze traveled down Dean’s body, lingered every so slightly below his belt, then moved back up to his eyes. “I should probably be arresting you.” He cocked his head to the side. “Thanks for the help, mate. Might have bitten off more than I can chew, here.” 

“Give me an hour and I can forge a license for you,” Dean said with a smirk. He looked around at the carnage. “Yeah, this is a bit much for a single hunter to take down alone. I hope ghouls don’t start taking up the habit of attacking the living. They’re usually scavengers. Hunters generally ignore them unless they make a nuisance of themselves.” 

Dean put the safety on and holstered his gun. “At least this puts an end to the murders of the people being eaten alive.” Course there was another problem in the city. “I’ve dusted three more of the vamps but they’re being damned stubborn and not taking the hint to move on. They’re beginning to piss me off.” He rolled his eyes, “I also chased off a couple idiots walking around in alleys at night, practically wearing signs saying ‘bite me.’ 

“Bite me.” Spike chuckled. “Vampire humor.” He sobered as a piece of the puzzle fell into place and held Dean’s gaze, a question in his eyes. 

Dean gave a sigh and a nod. “Yeah. Hellmouth variety. Why else would I work at a blood bank?”

“You must have thought me quite the fool, asking to see your teeth at the restaurant.” Spike remembered their time together, how hard he’d found it to say ‘no’ to this man, to keep away from him. It was still hard.

“No, not a fool. The other type of vamps, if you put pressure on their gumline, you can see their fangs. Anyway, I’m working on getting the vamps to either move on, stop killing folk, or get dusted. It’s my territory and they’re trying to make it theirs. I’ll stop the murders, I promise you that,” Dean said, not wanting Spike to decide to try to cowboy his way with the vamps like he tried with the ghouls.

“You left a lot of dust over at the park.” Again, it was an educated guess on Spike’s part. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. The gang is hanging near there and there are too many teens who are in that area after dark. You going to tell the cops they don’t need to do the extra drive-bys of the blood bank? Only two things can kill me, Spike. The cops need to be out watching over the public, not me.”

“You noticed.” Of course he had, it was why no one could follow him home. “It makes me feel better.” Spike looked out at the dark waters, then back. “But it cramps your style, yeah? I’ll call them off,” he agreed. “Don’t... don’t get dusted,” he said. “You’re not immortal, no more than the ones you’ve dusted.” 

“Believe me, I got that message loud and clear from the vamp who sired me. But I’ll be careful. Promise. I guess...I guess you gotta do paperwork. No time for… coffee.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Spike asked, slicing his hand through the air, exasperated because he was so bloody tempted to give in.

“Already dead,” Dean pointed out, one side of his mouth pulling into a smirk. “Besides you said it’s only fatal if I sleep with you. Coffee shops and diners usually frown on customers having sex on the tables.”

“So... you’re going to meet up and resist me? You’re on,” Spike answered, a real smile forming for the first time in days. “It’ll be a couple hours. You should go sleep or... whatever. I’ll ring you and let you know where to meet up.”

“You’re pretty irresistible, but I’ll do my best,” Dean said smiling back at Spike. He loved seeing the light and life in Spike’s eyes. Dean glanced down at the mess around them. “Man, I really want to read the report of how you’re going to explain this. I recommend saying cannibal cult, and that the parents, seeing they were found out, killed their own kids before you could stop them. They were killed by a different gun, after all. See you soon.” Dean couldn’t believe the way his stomach fluttered at just the thought of seeing Spike. 

Spike nodded, “at least in the unclassified report. I’ll see you.” It felt good to say the words, and even better to know they were the truth. 

As he made his phone call, he watched Dean walk away, smiling when the guy gave a wave without even turning around. Bastard knew he couldn’t take his eyes off him.

* * * 

It was almost eleven and Spike sat at the diner, sipping on his coffee and reading a paper. He’d felt a bit guilty about waking Dean up, but he’d done it anyway. Every once in awhile, his eyes darted up, searching outside the window to the street, his pulse kicking up each time someone fitting Dean’s profile approached.

Dean strolled up to the diner and walked in. He broke into a smile when he saw Spike. Pulling off his sunglasses, he tossed them on the table as he slid into the booth. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Dean said running his foot up the side of Spike’s calf since he knew he shouldn’t reach across and take Spike’s hand, no matter how much he wanted to.

Spike’s head went back, his eyes warming as they met Dean’s. “Only been a few hours, they can’t be that sore. Did you catch up on your beauty sleep?”

Dean gave Spike a look of horror. “Wait, are you saying I’m not as gorgeous as I was a few hours ago on the beach...in the dark...?” 

“You’re bloody gorgeous and you know it.” Spike folded the paper and put it down. “Why don’t you just have a coffee, you don’t have to go through the motions of ordering food,” Spike said, now that he understood why Dean hardly ate.

Dean gave a chuckle. “Dude, I love food. Some vamps can tolerate food, some can’t. I can, just not a whole lot. I love burgers and onions and pie. I can do snack sized portions of food, but I’m getting to where I can eat a little bit more each month it seems. It doesn’t do anything for me of course. At home, I sometimes mix blood into it. But yeah, not real hungry right now. I think I will just have coffee.” He motioned to the waitress for a cup of joe.

Spike made a face and tried not to visualize Dean adding blood to his food, but failed. “I’ll just pretend like you’re talking about tomato sauce.” 

Dean broke into laughter. “Okay, I’ll start calling it ketchup. Or tomato sauce. By the way, what blood type are you?” He grinned mischievously. “I keep trying to get you to come in and donate, dammit.” 

“Is that why you keep on my arse about donating!” Spike’s eyes widened and his hand went to cover his throat. “Why do I suddenly feel like Bella Swan?” 

Dean grinned. “Since I didn’t figure you’d let me bite you, how else am I supposed to get a taste of you? And who’s Bella Swan?”

“You haven’t seen Twilight? I’m taking away your vamp creds.” Spike chuckled. 

“Oh good god. The vampires that sparkle? Please tell me you haven’t read those books. I’m taking away your hunter creds.” Dean shook his head in disgust.

“Right. Well, for the record, there’s no way I’m letting you bite me. Unless you let me cuff you again,” Spike slipped in, just as the waitress arrived with Dean’s coffee.

“Baby, you can cuff me any time you want,” Dean answer, unfazed by her presence. “Just coffee for me today.”

The waitress looked over at Spike.

“He was just kidding about the cuffs. I’ll have more coffee, bacon and scrambled eggs, hashbrowns and ketchup.” He shot Dean a look, then smiled up at the waitress.

The waitress didn’t say anything and just gave a nod and walked away. Dean broke into laughter again. “I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at Spike. “You haven’t asked me the most obvious question. Either that, or you haven’t read up on hellmouth vamps yet.”

“I wasn’t kidding either,” Spike said, but went on, “What are you doing out and about during the day and where do you live? I was working my way up to it, give a guy a moment.” Course Dean had his entire attention.

“I don’t go poof in the sunshine because I managed to lay hands on a fairly rare ring that lets vamps walk in the sun.” He held out his hand with the gold ring set with a red stone. “As for where I live, well, I have a regular apartment and mailing address, but I spend most my time at that mausoleum you were getting ready to check outt when you were collecting vamp dust in my cemetery. That’s actually when I first saw you. I followed you from there to the crime scene the ghouls left, and then to the bar after you blew off your hot little number of a partner.” 

Spike frowned, then understanding dawned. “Meeting you at the… it wasn’t...” He paused, then gave a closed mouthed smile. “Should I be flattered, or were you following me to find out what I wanted?” He had a hunch it was the former, because Dean had not given up on him.

“At first, I just wanted to know what you were and whether or not I had to worry about you being a threat. I found out where you were staying and I might have intentionally come to the diner, with a bit of wishful thinking that you might show up, and I do like their burgers. But then you walked in. And everything changed.” He wanted to reach out and take Spike’s hand, and he made it plain in his glance to Spike’s hand and back up to his eyes that he would if the man would let him. “And yeah, you should be flattered. I haven’t chased anyone as hard as I’ve chased you since maybe never.”

The words took Spike’s breath away. He felt like some college kid over the moon for a boy who’d read him poetry or something. Worst of it was... “Tell me your hearing’s not that sharp,” he said, feeling a flush steal over his face.

Dean gave a smile and looked down into his coffee. “Yeah, my hearing’s pretty good. I heard your… heartbeat increase.” He raised his eyes to meet Spike’s gaze. “We also have a pretty keen sense of smell. Hormones. Arousal. Stuff like that.”

“Bloody great.” Spike let out his breath and looked away, desperately trying to bring his heart rate down to normal, and to not think about how hot Dean looked. “Think I’ll be buying you ear plugs and a surgical mask.”

“You’re even better looking when you’re all embarrassed and blushing,” Dean teased. “Have I told you how gorgeous I think you are?” he asked, staring at Spike and giving a soft sigh. He could look at the man, just look at him, for hours. “Definitely worth getting up early for.”

“Get off.” Spike rolled his eyes. “And stop that. Listening, I mean.” Did Dean have any idea how hard Spike was working at keeping his pulse steady? He decided to change the subject. “So why the graveyard? An effort to live a cliche? Or do all vampires--Now I’m trying to figure out what a vampire’s address would look like.”

“I like listening to your heartbeat,” Dean said. Sitting back, Dean considered Spike’s question. “A lot do live in abandoned houses or warehouses or cemeteries. I have mine set up with electricity so I can keep blood in the fridge and not worry about a visitor to my apartment finding it. Also, when you sleep during the daytime, cemeteries are generally pretty damned quiet. No traffic, no distractions, no neighbor’s heartbeats or yelling or TVs, or ringing phones. Good hearing has its drawbacks. I think that’s one reason vamps do the cemetery thing. Besides, apartments tend to be well lit with windows, and sunny windows and vamps are not generally good friends.”

“Makes sense, when you put it that way.” Spike felt his phone vibrate and picked it up before it started to ring. “What have we got?”

“How’s breakfast with hot blood sucker going?” Jo’s voice rang out loud and clear.

Spike’s gaze met Dean’s. He cleared his throat, “They prefer ‘vamp.’”

“Whatever. Thank him for saving your ass this morning. If you’d been killed, I’d be stuck with all the paperwork,” she said.

“My partner says--” Spike started.

“I heard her.” Dean leaned forward a little and said, “Hi, Jo. I look forward to meeting you one of these days. And so long as Spike’s in San Fran and I’m not working a shift, he has his own little guardian angel.” He winked at Spike.

“From what I hear, you’re not that little. Thanks and--”

Spike slapped his hand over the phone, cupping his hand so his voice would channel right into the speaker. “Enough chit chat. Did the bite marks match?”

“Yup, every last one. I think we can wrap this one up pretty quickly,” she answered. “We might have a break on the bloodsuck... the vamps. They kidnapped someone at an ATM. I’m analyzing the video.”

“Right. Ring me if you find anything out.”

“Okay. Be careful. Both of you,” she answered.

Spike dropped the phone into his pocket and saw that his meal, and an extra plate, had been brought to the table. “Help yourself, yeah?”

“Yeah? Thanks.” Dean reached over and snagged a piece of bacon. “Now if I just had my own special brand of ketchup to dunk it in,” he said, eyes sparkling. 

“You had to go there.” Spike shook his head. “Tell me you’re kidding. No, never mind, I don’t want to hear another word,” he said, not wanting to encourage Dean. Picking up his utensils, he started to eat, but watched Dean from under his lashes. For maybe the thousandth time, he wished his life were different, that he was someone else.

Dean slowly ate the bacon and just watched Spike eat. He listened to his heart beating, his easy breaths, the way he smelled of soap and cigarettes and a spice that was all his own. “I want more,” Dean said quietly, giving Spike a slight smile. “More of ‘us.’ Don’t freak. I’m just saying I wish we could, you know, have more. And I’m willing to take the risk if you ever decide you want it, too. But, if all I can have of you is brunches, late night coffees, and maybe some bar-hopping, well, I’ll take whatever I can get. Just so you know.”

“I was just thinking what a real date with you would be like. Probably backwards,” he said with a pained snort. “Get the sex out of the way and then see the city.” He looked at Dean’s hand, remembered how it felt to have his calloused palms move over his body. “I want that. I also want to just bloody fucking hold your hand... watch a movie... relax. I’d like to go to the park, put my head down in your lap and just listen to you speak. Just so you know,” Spike echoed, touching his knee to Dean’s.

“No, a date with me, a real date would be done all sorts of right. We’d go out to some nice restaurant with a view of the city or the bay. We’d get lost in conversation and I’d have the most expensive dessert on the menu. After that, we’d walk the beach or the park. Hold hands, talk, and laugh. We’d make out a little in the sand or the grass, then we’d head back to your place or mine and spend the night together. Not fall asleep until four or five in the morning. When we woke up, we’d have another go ‘round. That would be the date. Or we could do a pizza joint with classic rock, dance, and go have crazy wild sex some place where we’d risk getting caught. Which is your favorite daydream of the two?”

“Why couldn’t we do both? Back-to-back dates on a long weekend. I’m not choosing,” Spike declared. “You know we’re going to drive ourselves crazy with this... wishing.” He took a bite of his food and sat back as he chewed and swallowed. “If you could take back a moment of time, would it be the one where you chose to follow me?” he asked. His heart ached a little. The right answer would be ‘yes.’ 

“Never. But the one I’d take back would be getting turned, and then we’d probably never meet. If we did, I’d be in my forties and you’d see a crusty, jaded hunter and your heart wouldn’t race when you thought of me, or when you saw me walk in the door of the diner you wouldn’t suck in a breath. You’d just probably think, ‘damn, bet he was hot when he was younger.’ What about you? What would you take back?”

Spike smiled. “I’ll bet you’d look hot in your forties.” Course, he couldn’t help looking Dean up and down, even though a part of him knew he was being too obvious, that he needed to be more careful. “I don’t know what to wish for. If I knew the date … the circumstances my paths crossed with my sick stalker, I’d take that back. I don’t. And of course I regret each person I was with who was killed because of it. But how can I choose which one to save?”

“You know, you can’t blame yourself for what the stalker did. I know you want to, you feel like you should, but it’s not your fault. I killed when I was first turned. I feel guilty over every one of those deaths, but it was beyond my control. I finally won out, I finally caged the beast, and all I can do is look forward. I can beat myself up every day over those I killed but the best service I can do for their memory is make their lives count for something. And that something is me taking out evil where I can, and saving lives.” Dean gave a weak smile. “Still feel guilty as hell though.”

Spike gave a nod. He wasn’t going to grill Dean over what he’d done maybe twenty years ago. He was less interested in punishment for past wrongs, than in solutions and prevention of current murders. “Is it … is it different, drinking from a person versus from the blood bank? I mean, you quit. What about others?”

“Most vamps don’t have souls. Most vamps just have the demon in them. They like the terror, the pain, the torturing. There’s no guilt. Some demons are weak and less likely to be killers. It’s a combination of the personality of the person they had been and the demon that fills the void. And yeah, it’s very different drinking from a mug out of a microwave versus a person.” Dean took a sip of coffee. 

“Drinking from a person is the ultimate high. It’s tasting life, feeling life, feeling something when you can’t feel anything most of the time. Not really. It’s a power rush. Feeling them in your arms, hearing their hearts slow, their breathing stop, and knowing you could sire them or drop their body for others to find.” He gave a shrug. “It’s hard to change over to freezer food when you’re used to farm fresh. There are some who only do animal blood. The withdrawal symptoms from human blood are a bitch. Probably twenty percent of us aren’t dangerous, having gone store bought. Another twenty percent goes store bought when there are hunters or slayers in the area. The rest will attack humans to feed, then there are some who are really scary evil.” 

They chatted a little more about vampire habits, when Spike stopped and looked over at Dean. “You’ve told me everything. Where you live, how you walk in the sun, everything. Why? How can you just trust that I won’t go after you,” he asked. “You’re an ex-hunter, and from my experience, hunters are a suspicious lot.”

“Yeah, well maybe I think you’re worth the risk. Do you have any idea how many people I could tell these things to and not have them go running away screaming? Or be scared of me? You’re… perfect. You know about the supernatural, you know about hunters, you know what I am and yet you still… well, we’d be together if it weren’t for your bastard stalker. You’re pretty damned special Agent Brighton. Or I wouldn’t have told you a damned thing.”

“It’s ‘Special Agent Brighton.’” Spike chuckled. “And no, I don’t think I’m that special. You could tell all this to Jo, and if you impressed her, nothing would stop you from...” He motioned. “She doesn’t have a stalker friend.” Finishing his breakfast, he wiped his mouth. “You know, I didn’t touch that bacon.” He’d left it for Dean on purpose. 

Dean grinned and scooped up the other couple pieces. “It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t we, I don’t know, play tourist or something,” he suggested then began devouring the crispy bacon. 

Spike looked out the window. If he was being watched, then the watcher had to know by now they were more than acquaintances. Would a bit of hanging out make much of a difference? They weren’t going to break what he thought of as the ‘golden rule’ -- shagging. 

A part of him said it was a bad idea. He looked down at his half-empty plate, then up at Dean. “A walk at the wharf, then.”


	5. Chapter 5

Spike and Jo were still hunting the vampire gang and Dean had been unable to offer much help. Since he’d staked a few of the gang, they’d been a lot more careful and moved a little north of what he considered his territory. Even though it meant people were being hurt, Dean was feeling selfish. Once the vampires were handled, Spike would move on to the next case, which probably wouldn’t be in San Francisco. Who knew when he’d come back, if ever. Dean also found his attraction to the man growing. It was going to be hard to let him go. He had daydreams of turning Spike, but he knew a person turned vampire usually wasn’t the same. That whole no soul thing and evil demon mores kind of ruined it. He still liked to imagine it. Or to imagine finding that damned stalker so he and Spike could at least be together for the next few decades.

He pushed all those thoughts aside. Spike would likely be gone soon so he would take advantage of the time they had. And today just happened to be Spike’s birthday. Dean had convinced his boss to let him have a small surprise party for the FBI agent at the blood bank. Then, he’d gotten in touch with Jo who’d agreed to invite two other FBI agents. The blood bank crew didn’t know Spike, but they were never ones to pass up an excuse for cake. A few of them knew Dean was crazy about Spike and were looking forward to meeting the mystery guy who had succeeded in capturing the handsome man’s attention, where all others had failed. 

Having never given a surprise birthday party, Dean was a bit at a loss, but his co-workers helped and soon the break room was decorated with balloons and bright ribbons and a sign that said “Happy 28th Birthday!”

Dean had gotten trick candles and put them into the chocolate cake so they were in the shape of a ‘2’ and an ‘8.’ He’d also sprung for munchies, soda and punch. Jo was to find some excuse to get Spike to the blood bank. Dean figured Spike would know something was up, but he hoped the agent wouldn’t guess it was a surprise birthday party.

*

As they pulled up in front of the blood bank, Spike crossed his arms and turned to look at Jo, who cut the engine and looked right back at him with an innocent smile. He wasn’t buying it. “Thought you said you had a lead.”

“I do.”

“Here. At the blood bank. Where Dean works,” Spike drawled, raising an eyebrow.

“We have a case dealing with blood thieves, makes perfect sense,” she answered flippantly.

“You just want to get a look at him, don’t you? Haven’t been able to give it a rest,” he grumbled on, as he got out of the car. “Three minutes. We say hello, you get a good look at him, and that’s it, yeah? We’re not here to get him fired or to make a spectacle.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you, no matter what the excuse,” she said, pulling the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder and striding confidently toward the double glass doors. “Better come up with one quick.”

“Me? It wasn’t my bloody idea!” Course he realized Dean would think it was his idea. “I’ll just tell ‘im the truth. I have super busy-body for a partner,” he said as they entered and were directed to a door, “can’t keep her nose out of my business and wants a chance to ogle--” They’d walked into a dark room, so he searched for the light switch.

Dean’s excitement was growing as he heard Spike and Jo approach. The door opened and their figures were outlined by the light behind them. Dean threw the switch and everyone yelled out “Surprise!”

Dean was grinning at Spike like the cat who ate the canary. “Happy Birthday, Spike!” Dean said and approached, giving him a slap on the back instead of the hug and kiss he really wanted to give the man. He nodded his head to Jo. “Nice to finally meet you in the flesh, Agent Harvelle.”

Stunned, Spike stood there, looking between Dean and Jo, and the people in the room. He recognized a few faces and gave them nods, but most of the crowd were strangers to him. “I can’t believe--”

Jo laughed at Spike’s reaction, then spoke to Dean. “Yeah well, that’s not my fault. I think Spike was trying to keep you all to himself,” she said, then lowering her voice, added, “I can see why.”

“Right, which of you should be in hot water? Did you tell him about my birthday?” Spike demanded. “Don’t think I’ve had a party since, well in forever.”

“Oh, he did all his own snooping,” Jo said. “Wouldn’t want to steal the credit, Dean.” 

“Alright, enough checking him out,” Spike told her, then locked gazes with Dean. “You’re too much. I don’t know what to say.”

Dean grinned, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t figure you’d had a party in a long time and a man ought to have a party at least once a decade. Just say thanks. Have some punch, have some cake--after we sing you happy birthday and you blow out the candles--and then open your presents. Don’t worry, they’re nothing sentimental, but parties require presents.”

“Right, well, let’s go meet your friends so they can stop staring,” Spike chuckled, “not that it’s stopped Jo from staring.” He gave a soft ‘oof’ when her purse slammed into his shoulder before she walked away to mingle. 

After the candles were blown out and the cake was sliced, most of the blood bank employees took their cake and punch out of the break room, to eat at their desks. Spike stood with Dean and eyed the punch. “Had to be red.” He lifted his glass and drank from it.

“Absolutely. We’re at a blood bank, what do you expect? Cake is Red Velvet, too. Twisted sense of humor,” he shrugged. “So, since you’re here, can I convince you to donate some blood to a good cause?” he smirked.

“Are you _really_ asking me for ketchup?” Spike asked, eyes locking with Dean’s. Remembering how Dean has spoken about drinking a person’s blood, the heat in his eyes. The memory kicked Spike’s pulse up a notch.

Dean grinned and shrugged. “Blood bank can never have too many donors. Jo, Ken and Robert, we’re going to ambush them with requests for blood too. We’re evil that way. But hey, cake, punch, you guys are getting the special follow-up treatment after losing a pint of blood.” The look Dean gave Spike and the way he licked his lips suggested the blood bank wouldn’t get to actually keep any of Spike’s blood donation.

Spike nodded. He got the message. Oddly, a sense of excitement vibrated through him. Maybe it was because they couldn’t share much, but this might be something they could. “Bring a straw. I want to watch,” he whispered, making it clear he wanted to see exactly what happened to his blood donation.

Dean hesitated a moment and asked a little tentatively. “Have you seen the bumpy forehead variety before? Kinda Neanderthal, yellow eyes, etc.?”

“What?” Spike cocked his head. “Not sure what you mean.”

Dean gave a half shrug. “We’ll talk about it in private. I’m still young and sometimes I slip when I… eat. Especially if I’m excited. Never mind. We’ll let the others donate and then I’ll be the one to do the poking on you,” he said, the shine returning to his eyes.

Spike was curious, but he accepted that Dean would tell him later. “Let’s go try the cake then.” He almost reached for Dean’s hand, but dropped it to his side and walked with him to the table laden with snacks and the cake. “All those present, they’re for me?” He shook his head. “I’m almost afraid.”

“I’ll open them for you,” Jo offered, joining them.

“Nosey.” Spike gave Dean a look, but reached for his presents and started to open them. As a stuffed bear dressed in a suit and with an FBI badge sticking out of its pocket appeared, Spike chuckled. “Where do you find these things?” 

“I’ll take the fifth,” Dean said and handed him the next present, which he thought was a box of sourdough pretzels. There were also some blood oranges, protein bars, instant coffee, gourmet coffee, puzzle books, and even a mug that said “Spike” on it. The most serious of the gifts was a wooden stake and a gift certificate to a garden store, for a machete. “If you’re going to be a hunter, you need to start collecting the right sort of arsenal,” Dean teased.

Spike laughed. He pulled his leather trench coat open and slipped the stake into his inner pocket, checking to make sure there was no bulge. “Maybe we can practice some time. I’ll use a plastic stake to make sure we don’t have an accident.”

Dean laughed. “Dude, it still hurts even if I don’t go poof. So,” he gave Spike a devilish look. “You ready to be poked? I’m getting a hankering for some spiked ketchup. Or spiked punch. Or spiked… anything.” 

Spike shoved Dean toward the door. As he passed Jo, he tapped her shoulder. “I’ll be back in a moment, luv. About to get poked.”

“Not your luv and TMI.”

“I love it when she gets on her high horse,” Spike said.

Dean led Spike back to one of the private rooms and shut the door. “Pick your poison. I can bite you,” Dean said grinning, “or I can insert an IV needle and fill a bag and drink from there, or you can say you don’t want me tasting your blood, and I’ll honor that request.” Dean brushed a lock of hair off Spike’s forehead. “And I mean that.”

“Course you do. I have a stake in my pocket.” Spike’s gaze dropped to Dean’s lips. Standing close and not touching was ten times harder when they were alone. He stepped back, took off his coat and dropped into a chair. Draping his trench coat over a chair next to him, he put his arm on the arm support and undoing his cuffs, started to roll up his shirt. “Let’s hope the veins are cooperative. I’d hate to have... performance issues.” He lifted his eyes to Dean’s.

“I can’t imagine you with performance issues,” Dean snorted. “You know what makes me so very good at this? I can smell it, I can sense it, exactly where I need to put the needle, and just how deep to get the perfect flow.”

Out of habit, Dean washed his hands then pulled on some gloves. Tightening the band he put around Spike’s biceps, he put a rubber ball in Spike’s hand to squeeze. “Ooo, pump it baby, pump it.” 

Dean wiped the crook of Spike’s arm down with alcohol and then opened up the packages of needle, tubing and bag. Glancing down at Spike’s veins, he ran his gloved thumb across them, then slipped the needle in as painlessly as if he’d numbed Spike’s skin. He hooked up the tubing then released the strip of rubber around Spike’s arm. 

“Relax. Your heart and gravity pretty much take care of the rest,” Dean said, throwing away the trash and taking the ball from Spike’s hand. He sucked in a deep breath. “You smell so damned fine,” he said, meeting Spike’s gaze. 

“Well, for once I’m not running from ghouls or exercising. This is my fresh, clean smell.” He could feel the press of Dean’s finger on his inner arm, though he barely felt the needle itself. “This feels entirely more intimate than it should,” he said, his voice low and husky. He leaned in a little himself, his breath catching in his throat. 

Dean gave a soft laugh. “I mean your _blood_. It smells… perfect. Getting me all sorts of hard already,” he said, watching the blood slide through the tubing. He ran his fingers through Spike’s hair, even though he still had the gloves on. “And it is intimate. You’re giving up a part of you for the wellbeing of someone else.” He wanted to kiss Spike but forced himself to keep an eye on the bag that was filling. Dean shut the small valve. “All done,” he said and slipped a cotton ball over the puncture as he extracted the needle. “Hold your arm up.” He got a bandaid and put it over the cotton ball. He turned to the tubing and bag and drained the rest of the blood into the bag. “Last chance. I can still put it in inventory,” he offered, though his senses were heightened and adrenalin pounded through his body at the thought of tasting Spike’s blood.

“If I’d wanted to donate to the general public, could have done so long ago, yeah?” Spike said. “I want to-- I don’t know why, but I want to watch,” he admitted. He didn’t understand his need, it made no sense. And yet, he wanted it as badly as he wanted to take Dean in his arms and finish what they’d started at the hotel gym what felt like a lifetime ago.

Dean made sure the door was locked then came back to Spike’s side. “Sometimes, the fangs come out. I can usually keep it under control but just in case, don’t freak. Just because the fangs come out doesn’t mean I’m going all animal on you. A bumpy forehead, yellow eyes, and the teeth, are all physical manifestations of the demon inside me, I was told.” Dean clipped the tubing short so it was something like a straw to the bag of blood. He sat down on the floor in front of Spike and, closing his eyes, he slipped the tube in between his lips and began to suck the blood into his mouth. 

His whole body shuddered at the first taste of warm blood, spicy Spike’s unique flavor. He felt his own blood rush toward his groin and felt his control slip as the fangs came out. He stopped drinking the blood for a moment and forced the fangs back under control, changing back to appear fully human. He began drawing in more blood with a soft, seductive moan. 

The expressions flickering across Dean’s face took Spike’s breath away. He watched as Dean struggled with something, maybe it was to maintain control, and then went right back to drinking. Spike didn’t know if Dean was even aware anymore that he was still in the room with him. The low sound that Dean made got Spike suddenly and incredibly hard. Standing over Dean, he whispered. “Look at me.” He wanted to see the ecstasy in Dean’s eyes. If it wasn’t going to happen in his bed, he would bloody well get a look now. 

It took a moment for Spike’s words to register. Dean’s eyes slit open, then widened a little more as he stared at Spike. Spike’s blood was filling his mouth, something he didn’t think he’d ever get to taste, not really. Even with the tangy, erotic smell of Spike’s blood and the smell of Spike’s arousal, Dean’s own arousal intensified. He gripped Spike’s hand and placed the bag in it. Spike could control how much he got if Spike wanted to. One of his hands went to the outside of Spike’s thigh and gripped him, just holding on, nothing more, though he imagined what it would feel like to grip the inside of Spike’s thigh and the hard member that was pressing against fabric. 

Spike bit his lower lip, his gaze moving to his thigh, then back to Dean’s eyes. “So bleeding hot,” he whispered, fighting to keep from dropping down to his knees, wrenching the tube away, shoving Dean back and kissing the hell out of him. His nostrils flared a little and he squeezed the bag a little more, a moan slipping out of his lips when he felt Dean’s fingers grip him a little tighter. 

Dean’s eyes started to slip closed again, but he remembered Spike wanted them open. He stared into Spike’s eyes as he took another mouthful. It would be over far too soon. He couldn’t help himself as his other hand went to Spike’s hip, resting on the seam of his pants, slipping up to Spike’s waist and then back to his hip. After this, he was going to have to go take care of things, if finishing off the blood didn’t just flat out bring him. _So. Damned. Good._

Lowering his hand to Dean’s head, Spike ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. As the man’s lips worked the tube, all he could think of was having Dean’s plump lips wrapped around his dick. Fire raced through his veins. “God...” the word broke from him on an exhale. He squeezed the almost empty bag, his gaze dropping down to Dean’s groin, the outline of his shaft clearly visible in his jeans. “This is the part where I’d ask you to finish me,” he said thickly.

Dean’s gaze dropped to Spike’s groin. He gripped Spike’s thigh tighter and nodded but didn’t stop drinking. He’d reached the end and though he pulled hard on the tube, just a few drops were all he could draw out. Letting the tube slip from his mouth, he wrapped his arms around Spike and leaned in against him, resting his head against Spike’s stomach. “At the moment, I think I hate your stalker more than you hate ‘em.” He rested there a moment, letting the warmth of the blood coil through his body. He finally pushed himself to his feet and kissed Spike long and hard before breaking it off and giving him a smile. “So was it good for you?”

Spike licked his lips, and wiped his mouth. There was no blood on his palm, and no strong taste in his mouth. “You have to ask? What happened to your super hearing and other powers?” He ran his hand up Dean’s back and reluctantly stepped away, dropping the empty bag into the trash. “We’re getting close to the line.” He was so damned afraid that he would cross it.

Dean gave something of a pained smile. “I know. And I know I shouldn’t have stolen that kiss from you but… after tasting your blood, I just needed to taste your mouth. Why don’t we go collect your presents, then head over to that seedy bar you like. We can dance and work off some of this, ah, ‘tented up’” he glanced down at his groin and then at Spike’s, “energy and if the need hits either of us, there are strangers there to take care of it. Sound like a plan?” he asked, hoping Spike was agreeable to it. He knew he needed to work off some energy after that.

“I’m sure that’s a very bad idea.” He’d never been so torn. Spike took a few steps to the door and unlocked it, then turned around. “Finish your shift. I’ll be there.”

Dean gave a nod. “You better be.”

* * *

Hours later, Spike sat at the bar, knocking back a few whiskeys. All he’d been able to think about was Dean. The hours he spent imagining ripping Dean’s clothes off and having hot and heavy sex was troubling. The energy it took to try to keep the man at arm’s length was exhausting. And the heartache of knowing it might be better to just leave, to cut Dean out of his life, was too painful.

He felt, more than heard, Dean come up behind him. Every fiber of his being was aware of the vampire, it seemed. He turned his head slightly and drew in Dean’s scent. “You’re becoming an obsession. Not sure how to deal with this,” he said, closing his fingers around his shot glass. 

“Every day you get up and tell yourself that today won’t be the day you give in,” Dean said. “After a few years of that mantra, it gets easier.” He ordered a whiskey and then faced Spike again, wanting to pull Spike into his arms. “I think I’m going to have to add to my mantra, about swearing off drinking ‘ketchup’ from the container, to include not cornering you, ripping your clothes off and having kinky sex that involves biting and handcuffs.”

“You had to mention handcuffs?” Spike cracked a smile. “That’s proof you’re evil.” He lifted his glass and took a long drink. “This... obsession. Think it’s temporary?” he asked.

“Absolutely. In fifty or a hundred years it won’t even cross your mind,” Dean said, sounding very certain and sure of himself.

Spike gave him a look. “Is this usual for vampire/human relations?” 

Dean began laughing. “Dude, as far as I can tell there generally aren’t vampire/human relationships. The vamp finds someone of interest to them, they do a little stalking, and then turn ‘em. I’m sort of a special case. Soul and all.”

“Right.” Spike ran his hand through his hair. “I thought maybe-- Right, never mind.” Unused to being obsessed with anything, he was trying to find a reason for his feelings. It was clear it wasn’t going to be as simple as vampire allure or something like that. “You did stalk me, though,” he said, pointing at Dean. “Ever been obsessed with anyone else?”

 

“I didn’t stalk you with the intent of turning you. I just wanted to know if you were a threat,” Dean said. “No, not really. Maybe my brother.” Seeing Spike’s expression, Dean made a face. “No, I mean it was always my job to look after my little brother, so I was kind of obsessed with making sure he was always okay and safe. Dean smiled and leaned closer to Spike, “You are in a class all by yourself. My first almost true love. Who I never figured I’d end up being celibate with.”

That got a laugh out of Spike. “They say it’s good for the soul. Being celibate.” His gaze dropped to Dean’s lips, and he let out a huff of frustration and pulled away. “Go find someone. Close your eyes, pretend it’s me and then... tell me how I did.” He was _not_ going to be jealous, especially since he’d come here for that very same thing himself. 

“I don’t think anyone could live up to my imaginings of how it would be with you,” Dean said, tossing back a shot and ordering another one. “You go on, take care of the tension, it’ll be easier then. The craving might not be gone, but it’ll be manageable. Trust me. I know.”

“You’re talking about blood.” Spike’s breath hitched as he thought back to what passed between them at the blood bank. It shouldn’t have been that beautiful, that thrilling. The sheer ecstasy reflected in Dean’s face had pushed Spike to the edge. Just a little more, and he’d have broken. His eyes, burning with need, locked with Dean’s. “Did you get your fix, then.” He knew Dean had enjoyed it, but had the feeling lasted... was it what he was talking about? 

“For bl--ketchup, yeah. I have a new favorite brand, that’s for sure.” Dean gave a rueful smile. “Had a visit with my hand afterwards,” he admitted with a shrug. “It’s not the full fix I wanted, but I’m trying real hard to play by your rules. Cause not having you around would be worse. I can deal with a little frustration, but you’ve already nestled down and made a spot inside me. Almost feels like my heart is beating again. And I feel a little less like the things I used to hunt.”

“You’re a right special one, yourself. Make me want to laugh and cry in the span of a heartbeat. You’ve got me all twisted up inside until I don’t know whether I should ship you off to another country or handcuff you to me. And that’s just the things I can say aloud. Order another drink for me, I’ll be back before you know it.” His eyes traveled down Dean’s face, memorizing it. Memorizing what he would imagine. 

Pushing away from the bar, he strode away. It was a familiar path. An end to a means.

Dean watched Spike work his way through the crowd toward the back room. As soon as he was certain Spike wasn’t going to glance back at him, he slipped through the crowds himself, using his vampiric abilities to reach the room before Spike. He walked on the far side of the wall and found a spot. Looking through the holes in the thin wall, watched Spike come in. 

When he saw Spike nearing, Dean slid his fingers through the holes. He could smell Spike’s scent clearly and if Spike passed him by, then he’d move with the man, and no one had better get in his way. It would still be anonymous sex as far as Spike was concerned and this should meet his rules, but Dean wasn’t going to let anyone else have him, if he could be there.

Spike’s heart wasn’t into it, even if the rest of him felt like he had a fever and needed to be brought off before he went mad. Tonight, he didn’t bother to make small talk and find someone who suited him. Instead, he walked to the first free space against the wall, a place where he wouldn’t be boxed in by others.

Someone’s fingers showed in the holes in the wall, at about his belt-line. Spike plastered himself to the wall and spoke through a hole. “I want to get right to business. Be done fast. You alright with that, mate, or shall I find someone else.” 

Dean didn’t say anything. Instead, his fingers reached through the hole and partially unzipped Spike fly. Then he put his mouth up close to the hole, and pushed his tongue through, slipping it between the partially parted zippers.

“That’s some answer.” Spike let out a shuddered breath, thrusting lightly against the tongue pressing against his cotton-clad cock. He lowered his hands and opened his zipper all the way, and pulled himself out. Looking down, he watched as the guy’s searching tongue peeked out of the hole.

Stepping forward again with his feet slightly apart, Spike pushed his cock through the hole. Something gleamed in the dark, drawing Spike’s attention to the ring on the man’s finger. “Dean...” he ground out just as he felt his tip get sucked into the wet heat of Dean’s mouth. “Bloody... fucking... Christ...” he protested, but they were only words. His fingers curled through the holes in the wall, his body flush against it; he was as close to Dean as he could get with the thin wall between them. 

It pleased Dean that Spike was thinking of him, when he heard Spike say his name as he sucked Spike’s cock into his mouth. He gave a soft groan at the taste of the precum already gathered at his tip. He swallowed Spike deeper, dancing his tongue along the bottom vein of Spike’s rock hard cock. 

Dean’s fingers tightened around the hole in the wall. He sucked hard on Spike, sliding his mouth up and down Spike’s length. Switching it up every now and again, he let Spike penetrate deep into his mouth, and then took on only his tip. He tightened and loosened his lips, taking the time to tongue Spike’s slit before sucking him back down. He didn’t need to breathe, and didn’t have any gag reflex, so he was able to work Spike without letting up.

Dean was pushing the envelope again, they both were. And Spike knew he should pull away and walk out that door. But he didn’t. He didn’t have the strength... the will power... not now, not when it was Dean’s lips wrapped around his cock, giving him exactly what he needed, just like he needed it. His hand made a scratching sound against the wall as he moved it down, curling his fingers around Dean’s. 

Spike started to thrust, his breaths coming out in broken exhales as Dean deep-throated him again and again. He whispered something, but wasn’t sure what he said. All he knew was that he was racing to the finish line, racing because he’d needed it all day-- needed this man, needed this, needed it now.

“Fuck... ungh...” He squeezed Dean’s fingers with one hand, and slapped his other hand against the wall. “Coming...” he warned as he involuntarily arched back, cum gushing out of his cock only to be swallowed down by Dean. Another deep groan tore out of him, and then he was still.

His breaths came harshly. He stayed there for a moment longer, even after Dean released him. He listened, waiting for Dean to say something. Anything. But when there was nothing, he pulled himself together and zipped his pants up. “I hope you’re prepared to be sent off to South America.” Taking a few steps back, Spike turned around and headed out of the back room, straightening his clothes as he walked.

Spike’s taste was as exciting and spicy as his blood and Dean was certain he’d never be get enough. He’d just have to be certain Spike never caught on. _South America?_ Sonuvabitch. How the hell did he give himself away? He cursed as he dashed back to the bar, easily beating Spike there. He quickly ordered a couple of drinks, though Dean planned to keep Spike’s flavor in his mouth for as long as he could, especially since he might never get another taste of the man. That thought had him growling to himself. This stalker had to be put out of commission. He wanted Spike--no, he _needed_ Spike the same way he had always needed to look after his little brother, or needed to obey his father. It was a need that shot clear through to his core and dug its hooks in so deeply that there was no pulling them without destroying him in the process.

As Dean watched for Spike’s approach, a woman with sweet, cloying perfume, plastered herself against him and thrust her tongue into his mouth. Dean shoved the dark-haired woman away. “What the fuck?” he said, wiping his mouth.

“Naughty-naughty boy. Tasting what’s mine. Touching what’s mine,” she said, her English accent clear. “Those who touch, who taste, who hurt, who take what’s not theirs, end up bloody. End up dead. But you’re dead already. Taste like ashes you do, with that nasty soul inside you. You’re not his. He’s not yours. He’s my prince of darkness, prince of light, he is. Seen him coming, I did. When Angelus made me, I saw the beauty and knew he’d be my protector. Forever at my side. Loving me. Like my dollies. Always with me.” She wrapped her arms around herself. Her eyes growing darker than coal as she stared at Dean. “Not yours. Mine. Leave him or it’s ashes to ashes, dust to dust, for you,” she said, hitting him in the chest so hard he flew back over the bar. By the time he’d regained his feet, the woman was gone.

*

Spike had gone to the washroom and was halfway to the bar when Dean appeared in front of him, straightening his jacket and looking like he was heading to the door. 

“Dean--” Knocked slightly to the side, Spike frowned as Dean headed out without even acknowledging him. “Not the post-coital cuddler type... fine... but I’m the one who should be... bloody hell.” Shaking his head at Dean’s disappearing act, Spike headed to the bar, where his drink was waiting for him.

He cradled the glass in his hand for a few minutes and kept looking toward the door, sure that Dean would come back. Pulling his phone out, Spike called him, listening to the ringing tone and absently watching the bartender sweep some glass off the floor. 

When Dean refused to take the call, Spike gave up. Right, either he hadn’t measured up to Dean’s imagination, or Dean actually thought he’d have him shipped off to South America. Lifting the glass up, he swallowed every last drop, even though it burned all the way down. “To my almost lover,” he said, motioning for another drink.


	6. Chapter 6

When morning came, Spike was called to a horrific scene at the blood bank. The brutality of the killings, the drainage of blood, and use of that very blood as paint on the walls, was an M.O. that was only too well known to Spike. 

Even as he worked the scene, he called and called Dean, cursing at the fact his messages went unanswered. Dean wasn’t among the dead, at least here. But it was all too clear that the reason the blood bank workers had been targeted was that this was Dean’s place of work. What if his stalker had taken Dean elsewhere? Or what if the stalker had been enraged because Dean wasn’t here, and was now after Dean?

As soon as he could, Spike left the crime scene. 

* * *

He didn’t slow down as he made the u-turn into the parking lot of the graveyard. His tires screeched, laying black marks across asphalt and tinging the air with the smell of burning rubber. Taking up two parking spaces, he threw the door open and left it like that as he ran towards the crypts. 

No one was around, it was way too early for those visiting the graves of their loved ones. “Dean! Dean!” Spike repeatedly shouted, a shard of ice blossoming in his gut. _Be alive... whatever... be here._ “Dean!” he retraced his steps from that night that Dean had first seen him, and searched for the mausoleum.

His eyes lit on the largest one. It was in the direction he’d been walking that night, and Dean had said he’d been close. He raced to it and tried to open the door. “Bloody fucking hell. Dean, if you’re in there, wake up.” He pounded, and rattled the grated and padlocked door. 

Hearing nothing, Spike pulled his pistol out and took the safety off. He aimed at the padlock.

Dean opened the door, blinking blearily at the morning light. “Are you trying to wake the dead?” Dean asked from the doorway of the mausoleum next to the one Spike was attacking with a vengeance.

Gun still in hand, Spike spun around. He stared at Dean, his nostrils flaring slightly.

Dean glanced at the gun, then back into Spike’s face. “Come on in. I’ll make you some coffee and you can tell me what’s wrong. And I’m sorry for bailing on you last night.”

Slipping the gun into his trench coat, Spike strode toward Dean, entered the crypt and, grabbing the vampire’s shirt, pushed him up hard against the wall. “Where were you?” he demanded, teetering between giving Dean a bruiser and kissing him bloody senseless. 

“I was chasing down a vamp that showed up at the bar, but I lost it. Took me on a fucking merry chase half the freaking night. I finally came home when I completely lost the scent,” Dean said. He could smell Spike’s fear and fury. Tilting his head, he stared into those precious blue eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked, wondering if someone at the seedy joint had told Spike that Dean got bitch-slapped over the bar.

“You went vampire hunting... that’s it. I could kill you.” Spike shook him, but did the opposite, bringing his mouth down hard over Dean’s. For each time he’d told himself there had been no dust at the lab, there had been two thoughts about him being dead... gone from his life... killed. Driven by fear, and panic, and relief, he kissed Dean over, and over again, until he was out of breath and his lips were raw.

And even when he broke the kiss, his hands roamed over Dean’s body, making sure he was in one piece. “He’s back. My stalker. I thought he... bloody hell, I thought he...” His voice cracked. 

Spike turned away and slammed the door of the crypt shut. When he turned back around, he wasn’t sure how to tell Dean what had happened.

Dean was still recovering from the kisses and touches that it took a moment for Spike’s words to get through his dazed senses. “C’mon, let’s go downstairs, and I’ll get some coffee started for both of us and you can tell me why you think your stalker is back. But Spike, I’m okay. So just take a deep breath and calm down. Your heart sounds like you were chased by hellhounds before you got here. He guided Spike toward an open trap door.

Any other time, Spike might have commented that he was glad there was more to Dean’s place than what he saw on the first floor of the crypt. Downstairs was just like Dean had described. A real home, with a very large TV screen, lots of lights, which went on when Dean hit the light switch, and comfortable looking sofas and chairs. The bedroom area was open and partly visible, and it looked like there was a fake window.

Dean walked over to his small kitchen area and turned on the coffee maker then pulled out two coffee mugs. He brought some powdered donuts over and set them on the coffee table. “I’m guessing you haven’t eaten since yesterday’s party. I’ve got this, or some dry cereal. I might have an orange in the fridge. I can look if that sounds good. Sally is always pushing fresh fruit and vegetables on me, saying I need more vitamins. I hand the stuff out to the homeless usually.” 

Spike raised his hand to refuse the food. “Just the coffee,” he said, practically willing the coffee maker to hurry. He dropped down on the sofa and pinched the bridge of his nose, before looking up. “Something’s happened. Something bad,” he said, wanting to prepare Dean for it.

Dean frowned and sat down next to Spike. “Your partner, Jo. Is she okay?” he asked, concerned. He tried to think what else would make Spike think his stalker had returned.

“Jo’s fine. _My_ friends are fine.” His lips pressed into a flat line. “Dean, I’m sorry.” He put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and locked gazes with him. “The blood bank,” he said, squeezing Dean’s shoulder slightly.

“What about it?” Dean asked, trying to figure out what Spike was saying.

“Everyone on night shift. They’re gone.” He took a breath. It was never easy telling someone, a member of the public, that their loved one was dead. Spike had never gotten used to that aspect of his job. But this was so much worse. It was personal. This was Dean he had to break the news to. And Spike’s own stalker was the killer. “I’m very sorry.” 

Dean just stared at Spike for a moment and started to shake his head. The muscle of his jaw pulsed. The woman’s words from the night before rang in his head. _...end up bloody..._ He felt the tears begin to slip down his cheeks. “All...?” he whispered. He’d never had friends as a hunter, not the way his father had raised him. He’d always found it ironic that he had more friends once he was dead than he’d ever had when he was alive. Even if he kept himself somewhat distanced from them, they were still friends. 

“Everyone who was working overnight. They estimate four people.” The estimate was based on the amount of blood and body parts, but they were uncertain. “When I left, they were still trying to contact the manager to find out. The cameras and back-up tapes were destroyed.” 

Dean stood up and turned away from Spike. A vampire’s tears were blood. Spike had surely seen enough blood. “It was after I got off shift, while we were at the bar, wasn’t it?”

“You mean _because_ of it?” The answer was likely ‘yes,’ but Spike knew what it was like to live with guilt, and he didn’t want to put that on Dean’s shoulders. He got up, and moved behind Dean, first gripping his shoulders lightly, then putting his arms around him. “They won’t know the time of the homicides, not for a while. Dean, this isn’t on you. No one expected third parties to get hurt. Not you, and not me.” He tightened his arms around the vampire. “Do you need a drink?”

“I was the one who snuck behind the wall. This is on me. I made the choice. When you’re a hunter, you make hard choices and people die. I made a selfish choice and got people killed. Now, no, I don’t want a drink. The price has already been paid.” He turned and looked into Spike’s eyes as he wrapped his arms around Spike. “I want you in my bed.”

Spike stroked one side of Dean’s face, cocked his head slightly, and wiped the scarlet tearstains with the pad of his thumb, then rubbed his fingers together. His gaze met Dean’s. He didn’t say anything. He leaned in, and kissed him lightly. Then took a step back, pulling Dean with him, and kissed him again. 

Dean felt something inside him loosen. Spike was willing. Spike knew what he was, and still was willing. Dean had deceived him by slipping into that dark room to get a taste of Spike, and Spike forgave him, even if that had cost the lives of his own friends. He began working the leather coat off of Spike’s shoulders as he kissed him back almost savagely. Alone. He had always been so alone, even when he was alive, he’d been alone. With Spike, he didn’t feel alone. He felt whole.

As soon as he got the coat off of Spike, he pulled Spike tightly against him, barely letting Spike grab a breath when he needed it. With one hand on his ass and the other around his waist, he lifted Spike off the floor and carried him to the bed. Gently he laid Spike back so his knees were at the edge of the mattress. He finally broke off the kiss and took a step back, looking at Spike, admiring his face and sliding his gaze down Spike’s body. “I want you more than you can imagine,” Dean whispered hoarsely.

Eyes locked with Dean’s, Spike slowly sat up and reached for the hem of Dean’s shirt. He would make the pain, and the yearning, in this man’s eyes, go away, if it was the last thing he did. As soon as Dean raised his arms, Spike had the shirt off him. He locked lips with Dean again, though instead of touching him like he wanted, he started to unbutton his own shirt.

Pulling the hems of the shirt out of Spike’s pants, Dean slid his hands up Spike’s back. Strength and warmth was under his palms as his hands roamed over the man’s bare skin. He felt a few scars and wondered how Spike had come by them. He wanted to know everything about this man, all his passions, all his secrets, everything. That bitch who was laying claim to Spike as hers, she was going to be in for a fight, because he wasn’t going to let go of this man easily. Reaching around the front, he undid Spike’s belt and the top button of his pants and slid one hand down to that muscular ass that he squeezed. If Spike didn’t get his damned shirt off and soon, the shirt was going to lose some buttons. Or some seams. He really didn’t care which. 

Sensing Dean’s desperation, Spike finished unbuttoning and loosened his tie. Slanting his mouth over Dean’s, he pulled him down onto the mattress. His shirt and tie grazed Dean’s bare chest as he undid Dean’s pants. Then he pulled back, his heated gaze roving over every inch of Dean. “Don’t think I ever wanted anything, anyone, like this,” he said. “You’ve been under my skin from the moment we met.”

Straddling Dean’s hips, he sat down, his eyes closing slightly when he felt the press of Dean’s arousal against his ass. He ground his ass down over Dean in a circular motion as he shrugged his shirt off.

Dean couldn’t help but arch up against Spike’s ass. As Spike started to pull off his shirt, Dean reached up and helped push the shoulder holster down so Spike could finish getting out of his shirt, then he undid Spike’s tie. Pulling it off and tossing it up near the head of the bed, he gripped Spike’s white t-shirt and ripped in open. “You wear too many damned clothes,” he complained, his thumbs going to Spike’s nipples and rubbing them while he rocked his hips, getting more pressure on his painfully hard cock.

Spike’s protest at the mistreatment of his clothes turned into a moan. Tossing his shirt down and hanging the holster off the bedpost, within reach, just in case, he settled back. Splaying his fingers wide, he ran his hands up Dean’s taut abs and chest. 

Dropping forward, he ran his tongue around Dean’s upper and lower lips, stroked Dean’s tongue when it came out to play, then moved again, this time to swirl it around Dean’s nipple. He tongued it until it hardened into a tight bud, then moved to the other side. Bombarded by memories of what passed between them at the gym, he lifted his head a little. “Been wanting this ever since you invaded my gym. Haven’t stopped thinking of it,” he admitted, blowing a hot breath across Dean’s chest, then lowering his mouth and scraping his teeth along his chest. “Don’t worry, don’t plan to bite,” he whispered, moving lower, and immediately breaking his promise. 

Dean groaned when Spike began working on his nipples, arching and lifting up. “I came to that diner because it was near your hotel. I like their burgers, yeah, but I sort of hoped you might show up. I was shocked when you did. You’ve been in my dreams ever since that night. The gym just made them more intense--sonuvabitch.” Dean cursed as he felt Spike’s teeth sink into his flesh. His hand immediately went to the back of Spike’s head and held it there. “Suck and bite,” he begged.

He’d always liked hickeys but since he got vamped, it was almost as good as a blowjob. He felt his face change and his teeth elongate. “Fuuuuck,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Thought I was the vampire, here.”

“You, just keep your fangs holstered,” Spike answered, biting the sensitive skin next to Dean’s hipbone, then soothing it with licks and kisses. Feeling Dean shudder, he looked up and froze. Dean’s face kept shifting, and his eyes kept going an unnatural shade of yellow. 

His heart started to pound. Partly it was fear, and partly excitement, the thrill of the unknown. He slowly crawled up Dean’s body, until he was looking right down at him. “A little too ferocious looking, but,” He ground his hips against Dean’s, and bit his lower lip at the heat that went through his body. “I like that you can’t control it when I--” This time he bit Dean’s shoulder. Hard.

Dean cried out, something between a guttural growl and erotic moan. “You keep that up and you will get bit,” Dean panted, digging his fingers into Spike’s back as he thrust his hips against Spike’s. “You’re going to bring me off without even touching my cock,” he whispered into Spike’s ear, then nipped it just enough to draw a drop or two of blood. He licked it away with an even deeper moan and forced his demonic appearance back under control. At least until the next time Spike bit him. 

The sudden sharp pain had Spike jerking up slightly, then moaning at the way the movement caused him to grind harder against Dean. His muffled oath was followed by, “You’d best be kidding about coming off just yet.” Bringing his mouth down over Dean’s, he started another fierce battle between their tongues, and groped him as they moved against each other. 

His hands moved down Dean’s sides, to grip his hips and raise him slightly. “God... I can’t get enough,” he said thickly. Sweeping one hand across Dean’s abs, he moved it lower and squeezed Dean’s cock over his pants. 

“Ungh,” Dean groaned as Spike squeezed him. “Me neither,” Dean admitted lifting his head to watch Spike’s face to see the emotions sweeping over him. “How have you carried the burden of your stalker all these years? You’ve been so alone,” Dean said softly. “Like me.” He wrapped his legs around Spike’s thighs and pulled him closer. “But not today.” He wanted to beg Spike to take him, to help him blot out the things he didn’t want to think about.

“Not today,” Spike echoed, sliding back and licking a straight path down the middle of Dean’s chest to the opening of his jeans. Squeezing Dean again, he lifted up to his knees, his gaze dropping to the clear outline of Dean’s cock. “You’ve tasted me,” he said, his hot gaze flicking up to Dean’s eyes as he curled his fingers around the waistband of Dean’s jeans and started to tug them down, one side at a time.

“Both your blood and more,” Dean said. Unlocking his legs he planted his feet on the floor and lifted his hips. “Taste me, then. ...and if you want to taste my blood, it would be safe. You would have to be nearly drained dry for it not to be.” Dean couldn’t explain the desire to have Spike drink from him. He’d never had such cravings before, but the thoughts were strangely erotic. He gave a groan of relief when his cock was finally freed of his jeans. “You’ve already got me hard and dripping,” Dean breathed out, hungrily watching Spike. 

Spike’s eyes were laser focused on Dean’s cock, his hand sliding up and down its length as he twisted his fist slightly and learned what Dean felt like. “Offering me your blood... good thing I’ve gone through several courses of sensitivity training,” Spike answered, without batting an eyelash. “I’ll take this, if you don’t mind. More my thing, yeah?” Dipping his head down, he licked the cum that had gathered at the tip of Dean’s cock, then flicking his tongue across his sensitive slit a few times. “Mmmm... lovely. More of a mustard man than ketchup,” he said, before he started licking around Dean’s crown.

“And here I thought you Brits went for vinegar,” Dean gasped out, writhing as Spike stroked him and used his tongue. “You might find you like the taste of my blood as well. If you...ngh...change your--oh, god--yes, just like that,” Dean moaned when Spike sucked lightly on his tip. It took all his control not to thrust into Spike’s mouth. He felt his control of his vampiric appearance slip and his fangs burst into his mouth. He dug his fingers into the mattress. “You’re a fucking tease.”

As soon as Spike pulled off, he answered. “We Brits savor our food and don’t wolf it down. Except by request,” grinning, he moved his hand faster, loving how impossibly harder Dean seemed to get. He started to lick and mouth his tip, sometimes taking it part way in his mouth and sucking hard, and sometimes barely giving Dean any pressure. “We also have a reputation for saying ‘balls’.” 

“English food? Fish and chips? Not something you savor. Burgers and...yeah...fuck yeah...apple pie. Worth savoring.” Dean nearly jackknifed up when Spike’s mouth left his cock and focused on his balls. He dug his fingers into the mattress again, ripping through the material as if it were paper. “Suck them into your mouth,” he begged.

“Didn’t hear you complaining when you were feasting on me, did I? I’m English.” Licking the base of Dean’s cock, he sucked his balls into his mouth and pumped his cock. The muffled sounds coming from Dean spurred Spike on. By the time he moved his attention back to Dean’s cock, it was swollen and more flushed than any other part of his body. Opening his mouth wide, Spike took as much of him in as he could. Recalling the blowjob that Dean had given him, he knew had to blow Dean’s mind the way the guy had done to him. 

Dean was practically beyond sensible words with the way Spike worked him. His cock throbbed with need and Spike didn’t disappoint, taking him in until he felt his tip touch the back of Spike’s throat. He let Spike set the pace though his hips wanted to move faster and harder. He knew he had to be careful of his vampiric strength, but recalling that was growing harder as Spike worked him. He sat up and pulled Spike off him. 

“Moment...need control,” he growled, his fingers almost bruising Spike’s shoulder. He panted though he didn’t actually need the breath, it forced him to focus. He pulled Spike into an intense kiss, and felt his vampiric features fade. He finally broke off the kiss and stared into Spike’s face, his eyes hot with desire. “Okay. I’m...I’m okay,” he managed, with a nod and moved Spike’s hand back to his cock. 

“Thought you were about to pounce me. In a good way,” Spike clarified, running his other hand over Dean’s now smooth forehead. It was strange. He was a suspicious man, both by nature and because of his experiences, and yet he felt no sense of fear even with a vampire who admitted lack of full control over his vampiric nature. 

Dropping his hand down, Spike used both hands to stroke Dean. He pumped with one hand, while squeezing with the other, and sometimes moving lower to Dean’s balls. They sat across each other like that, gazes locked. Spike’s heart pounded out of control. The heat in Dean’s eyes, his own body’s reactions, thoughts of getting free of his own clothes, had Spike hard and aching. “Keep looking at me like that, and I’m the one’s gonna come early.”

“I can’t look at you any other way,” Dean whispered, wanting to kiss Spike again. “And I’d be happy to pounce you. In all the good ways possible.” His head fell back as Spike worked him. He’d never lost control like this with any of his various partners, not since he’d gotten his soul back, at any rate. “So good,” he muttered his hips beginning to thrust again. 

Leaning in, Spike took advantage and nuzzled Dean’s throat, sucking on one spot and wondering if it would leave a mark. He doubted it, but knowing Dean liked a little biting, he nipped him. The way Dean lifted up and thrust hard into his fist in reaction had Spike’s senses reeling. 

“You’re evil,” Dean gasped, as he felt Spike’s teeth at his throat. Dean let himself go, let himself be pulled into the moment. His fangs returned but he knew he maintained control of the beast inside. “Ngh, If you want a taste--” Dean warned, his hips thrusting faster and harder as he felt muscles beginning to tighten, as he felt blood rocket through his veins. Heat filled him, burning and desperate as he grew close to his climax. 

Shoving Dean back, so he was flat on his back, Spike dropped down and took Dean into his mouth. His hand and mouth moved in unison, fast and hard along Dean’s shaft, every movement calculated to push Dean over the edge. 

Dean took it all in, the heat of Spike’s mouth, the sound of his pounding heart, the scent of desire rolling off of him in waves. He felt everything inside him tighten, his balls practically spasming tightly against him as he came, Spike’s name on his lips, echoing in the room.

Spike gripped Dean’s thigh, pinning it to the mattress as he swallowed down everything Dean gave him. Just as he pulled off, though, another thick rope of cum shot across his mouth and cheek. “Tricky bugger,” he complained, closing his lips around Dean’s tip once more, and sucking down every last drop.

When he raised his head again, Spike wiped his face clean, and slowly crawled up Dean’s body. He kissed him lightly, and settled down over him. His heart was still beating so hard, Dean had to feel it against his chest. “Not going to move unless you tell me,” he said, holding onto Dean. It had been so bloody long since he’d had anyone in his bed, he was going to enjoy every moment.

Dean felt practically dazed when Spike crawled over him and kissed him, even though the agent knew Dean’s teeth were still weapons, his forehead bumpy and his eyes golden. He could swear, for just that moment, his own heart beat in his chest. He wrapped his arms around Spike. “You never have to move,” Dean said, feeling the thump of Spike’s heart against his own breast. “I don’t want to share you,” he whispered, running his fingers through Spike’s sweaty locks. “I want you with me.” 

Dean’s mind returned to his co-workers who had died because of him, and fresh tears slid down his cheeks as his face returned to human. That woman, Spike’s stalker, he would find her and kill her. He shut his eyes and clung to Spike, beginning to sob softly for those who had died because of them.

Holding Dean tight, Spike whispered, “that’s it... let it all out now.” He had no words that could make Dean feel better because he was well aware that platitudes were valueless. And he knew the weight of guilt. It was something that they each would carry on their shoulders from this day forward. Spike blamed himself. Dean blamed himself. And nothing anyone said would change that. They had no choice but to live with it. Occasionally, he wiped Dean’s tears and whispered in his ear, but mostly, he allowed him to grieve.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean had fallen into a dead sleep. Spike figured that his co-workers’ deaths had taken its toll. Between that and the nocturnal activities he’d engaged in, whatever they’d been, Dean was exhausted. 

He’d shaken Dean lightly and told him that he had to leave, but that he’d called Jo to help protect Dean. All he’d gotten back was some mumbling of the sort he would have put down to delirium, if he didn’t know better. 

After he’d gotten dressed, minus his torn undershirt, he’d pulled the light sheet up over Dean. Then he’d pulled the thick curtains across the bedroom area of the crypt, to give him some privacy from Jo.

* * *

The television was on, but Jo had taken the liberty of moving it so that the entrance to the lower part of the crypt was visible at all times. The coffee table was covered with her weapons, including an automatic assault rifle and grenades. Spike hadn’t had to convince her, not when she’d seen the carnage at the blood bank.

She’d helped herself to coffee, and was sitting on the sofa with a rifle across her lap when she heard some sounds from behind the curtain in the bedroom area. “Finally,” she exclaimed under her breath. 

When Dean finally opened his eyes, it was to a sense of confusion. Was he late for work? Why hadn’t his alarm gone off or had he slept through it? Was Spike giving him a hellacious blow job just a dream? Or was he mixing it up with the night before at the club, when he’d been the own to blow Spike? Then everything came rushing back to him with a vengeance. He sat up and put his head in his hands as the guilt washed over him.

It finally registered that the TV was on and he immediately attributed it Spike, until he heard a woman’s voice. Her scent, it took a moment, but he identified it as Jo. Tossing back the sheet he found he’d kicked off his jeans at some point. He hung that pair up and grabbed a fresh pair off a hanger. Pulled open the curtain and walked barefoot into his kitchen area where he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Evening,” he said somewhat hoarsely. Seeing all the guns, he asked, “Are you my protector?”

Not even hiding the fact that she was checking him out, she mimed a ‘wolf whistle.’ “That was the plan, but...” her gaze slid over his bare chest and she gave a good natured laugh. 

He gave her an almost embarrassed smile. “Thanks. There was a time I’d have happily suggested a roll in the hay but...I think your partner might not be too happy with either of us if that happened.” He looked at her spread of guns and gave a slight shake of his head. He walked over to a chest that he opened up and pulled out a self-loading crossbow. He laid it on the couch beside her. “Guns aren’t all that effective against vamps. Unless you manage to decap them with enough bullets, but they generally won’t give you enough time for that. Aim for the heart. You ever used a crossbow like this before? Hell, have you ever used a crossbow?”

She glanced at the weapon and gave a nod. “I’ve tried, but it doesn’t come naturally to me. We’ve got wooden bullets, but we’re not going vampire hunting tonight. I know vamp hunting is your thing, but you promised Spike you’d stay put until we put this bastard down,” she said. “It’s a beaut though... your crossbow.”

“I what? No, I promised to stay here until the results came back from the lab or crime scene or whatever.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I need to go out and get a new phone. Mine got busted up. I’m sure the blood bank is going nuts trying to get a hold of me.” He stared at Jo, trying to decide what to tell her--whether to tell her. But she was in danger if she didn’t know. Just like Spike was.

Sitting on the arm of the couch he took a sip of coffee and met her steady gaze. “At the bar last night, Spike’s stalker approached me. It’s a she and she’s a vamp. She basically told me he was hers and if I didn’t want to end up dusted, I needed to back off. So yeah, we are going vamp hunting. She’s loco from what I could tell and possibly psychic.” 

“What? You _know_ the stalker?” She frowned. “Spike didn’t say... Wait, did you tell him? You _did_ tell him it’s a vampire?” She said, getting up to cross the room to her duffel bag. She needed to swap out standard bullets for wood. 

“Hell no, I don’t know her. I’d just given Spike a blow job and was at the bar. Next thing I know, I’ve got some black-haired chick with her tongue down my throat, telling me he’s hers. She didn’t have a heartbeat and smelled of blood. She slammed her palm into my chest, I went backward over the bar, and when I got up, she was gone. I chased her half the night but lost her.” Dean shook his head. “No, I haven’t had a chance to tell Spike. He showed up and told me about the murders and...and I guess I figured he’d still be with me when I woke up. Or maybe, that I could try to track the bitch and not have to worry about him being in the line of fire. Like you said. Vamps are my thing. But...he needs to know. I’ll sit with a sketch artist. I think I can give a decent description of her. You call Spike, tell him. I’ll finish getting dressed. You and I can get me a new phone and then go see the sketch artist. See if Spike’s good with that plan.” 

She turned a couple shades of pink. “He denied _having_ sex... For someone who’s always huffing about technicalities,” she shook her head. In her book, oral sex counted as sex. 

After she’d loaded her weapons, she grabbed her phone. “I’ll tell him we’re going to the office so you can give a description. He’ll probably want to meet us there.” 

“He didn’t know it was me on the other side of the wall, not at first, anyhow.” 

“Yeah... and _that’s_ why he doesn’t consider it sex,” she rolled her eyes at his feeble attempt to come to Spike’s defense. “He’s not picking up,” she said, redialing. 

Dean stood up and walked over to the fridge. Hard telling when he’d get another chance to eat. Setting his coffee cup on the counter he pulled open the fridge and fingered through the bags hanging in there. He selected one and pulled it out. “I better eat before we go. Don’t want me getting hungry and wanting a...snack.” He gave her a small leer before turning back to the counter and digging out a tall tumbler. He filled it with blood and set the timer and power on the microwave before heading back to his room to get a shirt and shoes. 

“Gross... sorry but... it is what it is.” She started collecting her weapons. “So, can vampires sneak up on each other or can you sense another one nearby?” 

They can sneak up so long as they’re downwind and basically move silently, or there’s enough background noise to cover them. Unless it’s your sire or someone you’ve sired. Or someone you’re close to. Those a vampire can sense. Otherwise?” He shrugged into his shirt and grabbed some socks and his boots then sat on the edge of the bed. “We all have our vulnerabilities. And what’s gross, me eating or suggesting you as a snack?”

“Both,” she said, her hand moving to her neck as she stared at the curtains separating them. “You’re sure it’s one blood suck... vamp? Sorry, it’s what we called you guys before we met you,” she laughed. “I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a gang.” The carnage at the blood bank had been unbelievable.

“When I tracked her, it was just her. She mentioned her sire in passing, but I don’t know if he’s around. I can’t guarantee anything but I think it’s just her.” He walked out fully dressed and smirked at seeing her hand still on her neck. “I don’t drink from the container,” he said to her. “Least ways, I try not to.” 

The microwave dinged and he pulled out his tumbler of warmed blood. He drank it down slowly but in one long pull from the cup. He let his face change because it was hard to keep it from changing when he was downing that much blood at once. He set the cup down on the counter and glanced at her before forcing his human features to return. “That’ll hold me for a while. I’m ready.”

“You know, I think I like the Bram Stoker version better,” she announced, mostly taking his change into stride. She’d seen things that looked worse. At least he could change back, that was something. “The only other vamps we’ve come up against didn’t do the bumpy forehead thing, but they didn’t have the nice movie-vamp fangs either. “You ready?” 

“Yeah. Got my busted phone to exchange. We’ll hit the phone place on the way to wherever.” He grabbed his leather jacket and slipped it on and motioned her up. He turned off the TV and the lights as he followed behind her. 

“Bet the real estate’s cheap around here. What do you think about neighbors? I’m thinking about the crypt four rows over. We could start a trend...” She stepped into the main crypt, pushed the metal grate door slightly open to check their surroundings, before walking out. Turning, she flashed him a smile. “You think I’m kidding.” 

* * * 

Jo harassed Dean about having selected an iPhone, and then about putting Spike on speed dial. Not that it helped any that her partner was not picking up his phone. 

All of their joking stopped when they got to the blood bank. Jo flashed her badge and said that Dean was consulting, and they were allowed to enter the crime scene. 

The scents that hit Dean as he entered the crime scene nearly stopped him in his tracks. He could smell Marsha, and Ryan. There was also Tim and Jake. It was clear to him who had died even if the cops were still trying to sort it out. He forced his emotions under tight control as he slowly walked the blood bank, noting where tape marked the places where they’d found body parts. So very much blood...everywhere. He stopped when he found an empty bag of blood in the hallway with a number beside it. He knelt down and studied it a moment, then stood back up.

“Spike had donated some blood at the party,” Dean told Jo softly. “Wasn’t for public use, but for me. That was the bag I’d put it in. I’d put the empty bag into a biohazard trash can in that room over there. This is what got them killed. She must have figured the blood bank hurt him, or took blood from him. From her ‘property.’ So she was here before she followed him to the bar. If she questioned them… maybe someone told her we were going to the bar. She probably sensed what I am, or saw us there. It’s my fault they’re dead. He never would have donated blood if it wasn’t for me. I’ve seen enough. Let’s get to,” he waved a hand, “the precinct or FBI office or whatever to get the sketch done.”

Jo couldn’t wait to get out of there. Once they were outside, in the fresh air, she put her hand on his back. “We’re dealing with someone who is out of touch with reality. She will _always_ find a reason. An excuse. That’s all it is, Dean. Not your fault. You know, I ran a check through our systems for similar massacres and got several hits. I don’t have the full reports yet, but from what I read... it could be her. Who should we blame those crimes on?” She cocked her head to the side. “Guilt is a waste of energy. Get even... that’s my motto.” 

“A vampire kills for a lot of different reasons...but I like that motto. We’re taking her out, I swear we are. I’m going to free Spike of the bitch no matter what,” Dean said grimly, but even so, he knew, and so did Jo, that Dean had brought her to the blood bank when he got Spike there. And his friends died. 

“Do you have access to vampire histories?” He asked. “She said her sire was Angelus. Could you see if anything pops out of your database? Since she’s English, she might have been sired there. I kinda would like to get a feel for how old she might be. The older they are, the more dangerous, and she felt pretty damned powerful to me.”

“Well you know, until we met you, we weren’t up to speed on your type of vampires. But we’ve gone over the resources you referred us to with a fine tooth comb and... well, I’ll tell you on the way,” she said, heading for her car. “We looked into the Slayer lore and it looks like it’s for real. Now the Slayer’s people have lots of information, but they’re like hunters... not the sharing types.”

Opening her car door, she entered and unlocked the door for Dean. “That’s where Ash comes in. We call _him _‘vampire.’ He’s our resident techno geek who is working on breaking into a database maintained by Watchers Inc., for the Slayer. But you didn’t hear this from me, because the FBI is in the business of preventing data theft, not engaging in it,” she said with a wink.__

__“Watchers, huh?” Dean said as he slipped into the seat and fastened his seat belt only because he despised the warning dings if he didn’t. “Yeah, I know about the Slayer. I knew the lore, filed it under bull crap, then ran into her once. Didn’t know about the watchers’ database or I’d have tried hacking it long ago. I guess I could call Summers and ask her, if your geek bombs out. I saved her life, but she let me live, so I’m not sure I’ve got any leverage, ensouled or not, to get anything out of her.”_ _

__“Wait, you know the Slayer? Cool, _you_ deal with her,” she said with a grimace that told him how much luck she’d had._ _

__* * *_ _

__Dean finally got off the phone with the Slayer. “Summers thinks it’s probably a chick named Drusilla. She’s full-fledged insane, but has a touch of psychic talent. And she’s at least 150 years old. Told me she’s dangerous as hell. She even offered to send someone to help if I wanted it. That puts the freaking fear factor a notch higher than it might be otherwise. She didn’t make the offer lightly,” he said grimly. “I told her I’d update her. She’s going to email me a drawing of her.”_ _

__“But the description matches? Guess you won’t need a date with the sketch artist. Want some coffee?” she asked, sitting on the other side of the desk and looking up when she saw movement outside the glass. Some agents had just come in, but Spike wasn’t with them._ _

__“Yeah, the description matches,” Dean said. “If it’s decent coffee, yeah, I’ll take some.” His own gaze moved to the incoming agents, a frowned wrinkling his brow when Spike wasn’t among them. “Does Spike make it a habit of turning off his phone or letting it go to voicemail? It’s a damned annoying habit if he does._ _

__“No, not usually.” She got up and stopped at the door. “How do you take your coffee? And please, don’t say spiked.”_ _

__Dean laughed. “Just black, thanks.”_ _

__“Not joking,” she answered with a wink, before she disappeared out the door._ _

__A few minutes later, special agent Robert and another agent walked into the office. “Dean.” Rob gave him a nod of acknowledgement. His somber expression was due the fact he’d had birthday cake with those who’d been slaughtered, and knew it had to be a thousand times worse for Dean, who’d worked there and been friends with the victims. “Spike back?” he asked, tapping a folder against his other hand._ _

__Dean shook his head. “No, and he’s not answering his phone.” He gave a frustrated sigh. “Guess you need to put a bell on him or something to keep track of him. Are those lab results?” he asked._ _

__Rob gave a nod and looked at his watch. “Bet he’s at the King’s Head, having fish and chips and... what was the other thing...”_ _

__“Bangers,” the other agent supplied._ _

__“Yeah, every time he runs into one of _his people._ ” Rob chuckled and shook his head._ _

__“Oh God, hours of talking about ‘old England,’” Jo chimed in, setting a cup on the table next to Dean and sipping her own coffee. “But he hasn’t been answering... I don’t think he’d go off for drinks today.”_ _

__“He ran into someone from England?” Dean said. He really didn’t want to see the lab results since he already knew who’d been killed and basically what happened. He didn’t need to read about torture or dismemberment._ _

__“Someone called on the tip hotline right around, in the morning,” Rob answered. “Spike said it was a fellow limey so he took the interview. We’ve already had what... sixty or seventy calls,” Robert said. “Maybe he got lucky.”_ _

__“But he hasn’t called in. Not even for the reports?” Jo asked, and grabbed her phone again when Rob shook his head._ _

__“Beers and bangers,” Rob said, reinforcing his belief that Spike was at the pub._ _

__A sinking feeling hit Dean in the gut. “Was it a woman? Do you know?”_ _

__“Yeah.” Robert placed the folder into the inbox and watched as Jo dialed and re-dialed. “Is there a problem?” He could see that Jo and Dean looked stressed._ _

__“Did you record the call? Her tip? Or where Spike’s supposed to meet her?” Dean demanded._ _

__“Incoming calls get taped,” he nodded. “But it’s just one tip in a long line of tips. You guys are on edge, I get that. But he can take care of himself and like I said, you’ll probably find them over at the pub. I’ll catch you guys later, got lots of paperwork,” he sighed._ _

__Dean strode over to Robert and grabbed him by the front of the shirt and perfectly pressed tie. “Set it up. Find it. I ran into his stalker last night. She was a dark-haired woman with an English accent. I came here to get a sketch done of her.” He growled threateningly. “So set up the damned recording. Please.”_ _

__“What the....” Robert started to shove at Dean and the other agent started to grab his shoulder, when Dean’s words sank in and they both stopped._ _

__Jo tossed the phone in her purse and got up. “You couldn’t have mentioned her accent before?” she snapped. “I get you’re an ex...” Seeing the interested from the other agents who knew nothing about the FBI’s weird files, she cleared her throat, “navy seal and that you seals don’t play well with non-seals, but this is my partner we’re talking about. So you have any other information, you spit it out. Now.”_ _

__Dean released Robert and turned to Jo. “I told you I thought she was from England. ...You’re right, I didn’t specify she had an accent. I’m sorry. With the blood bank, and Spike not picking up his phone, I’m not really at the top of my game.” He paused for a moment to gather himself. “She’s thin, about Spike’s height, long dark hair, accent, possessive of him and seriously cuckoo for CoCo Puffs. She was in a long dress, dark colors. I tried to follow her, but she lost me over in little Italy. I didn’t see her working with anyone, but that doesn’t mean anything. That’s it. That’s all I got.”_ _

__Dean watched as the two male agents glanced at one another._ _

__“I’ll get the tip line files called up,” Robert said and both agents left the room._ _

__“Sorry Jo, my head’s not on right.” He glanced at his phone, hoping an email had come from Summers, but she’d said it might take a while to dig up a drawing of the vampire. The inbox was empty. “And in case I didn’t say it before, with one blow to my chest, she sent backwards over the bar. She’s strong.”_ _

__If he didn’t look like he was already beating himself up over not having said anything about the vampiress last night, Jo might have hit him over the head. She gave a nod. “Let’s hope you don’t recognize the next voice you hear,” she said, walking out of the glass doors to the Robert’s office, down the hall, where the call recording would be directed._ _

__“Shit. Now you’ve got me worried,” Robert said to Jo, who had Dean on her heels. He was scrubbing through the calls as they listened on the speaker._ _

__Dean tried to be patient as Robert fast forwarded through the tips. The had to have gone through thirty before Dean suddenly grabbed Rob’s biceps. “That’s it. That’s her. Is she the one--” before he could finish his sentence he heard Spike’s voice, talking to the woman. “No. Goddammit, no,” Dean whispered. He listened to the conversation. Spike was supposed to meet up with her in the warehouse district near the cargo docks hours ago. He glanced at Jo. “His phone’s GPS. Can you get it turned on since he’s with an insane murderer?”_ _

__“Are you telling me a woman... she’s got to have had help. Must be a group of them. There’s no way one woman caused all that mayhem.”_ _

__Jo pushed Robert out of the way and logged onto his computer with her own ID. Then she started pulling up Spike’s GPS information, twice confirming this was for Bureau business. “Spike... you better not have shut it off... there.”_ _

__Suddenly, the whole group of them were leaning over her shoulder. “He’s on the move.” She clicked the mouse a few times to zoom in. “Heading out of San Fran...”_ _

__“I’ll pull the car up to the front and call up a detail,” Robert said, grabbing his cell and talking into it as he headed out to the elevators._ _

__Dean gave Jo’s shoulder a squeeze. When she looked at him, he gave a slight shake of his head. It was unlikely the phone was still with Spike. He also knew Jo couldn’t not go. Spike was her partner and this was the most tangible lead they had._ _

__“I’ll check out the meeting place,” Dean said quietly. “See if I can find anything. But Jo, it’s still daylight. It’s not impossible, but it’s unlikely that they’re in that car together. Only way would be if she’s got Spike driving and she’s got protection from the sun. The windows will be blacked out if it is them.”_ _

__She gave a nod as she grabbed her purse then pulled him aside. “I’m going to go separately. If you think... if you even have a hunch you know where he’s at, call me. You can’t do this alone, and I’ve got the firepower, I can help,” she said. “Need any weapons, come with me to the car, now.”_ _

__“I will. Call you. Hopefully I can pick up their scents and track them. But I’m probably not going to know where they are until I get there. She may have already...he may already be a vampire. I may have to--” he swallowed hard, wanting to deny what he knew he’d have to do. “Yeah, I could use some firepower,” he finally said._ _

__“Have to what. What, Dean?” she demanded, grabbing his arm._ _

__“...Dust him. If he’s been vamped, his soul’s gone and a demon’s wearing his skin. He’ll kill, Jo. I did when I was first turned. I did terrible things that first year. Things that still give me nightmares. I won’t do that to him. The Spike we know will be gone, if he’s been turned. Depending on what demon takes him over...I’ll give him a chance, but odds aren’t in his favor.” His voice was level, unemotional and almost cold. He didn’t want to think about what he’d probably have to do._ _

__“No.” Her eyes locked with his. “It can’t be just your decision. I’m not alright with that.”_ _

__Dean looked away from her and closed his eyes. He understood how Jo felt. How he’d feel. He turned back to meet her fierce gaze. “All right. If at all possible, if he’s been vamped, I’ll lock him up. I’ll let you see for yourself that he is isn’t human anymore, isn’t Spike anymore. I understand if you want to be the one...let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “You have my word, I’ll do everything possible to save him, and if he’s turned, I’ll do everything I can to try to lock him up. What if he gets away from me and I can take a shot and nail him or let him go? What do you want me to do? He’ll be very very hungry when he’s first turned. It’s your call though. You’re his partner.”_ _

__She ran a hand through her hair. “I... he wouldn’t want to hurt anyone,” she conceded softly. She didn’t say anymore. Couldn’t. Exchanging looks with him, she headed out with Dean at her side. She would just have to trust that Dean was good for his word._ _

__* * *_ _

__The metallic smell of his own blood tainted the air. Sitting on the hard wooden chair with his wrists tied behind its back, and slumped slightly forward, Spike could see the scarlet rivers running under his feet._ _

__He couldn’t see _her_ , but he knew she’d be back. His lips hurt. She’d bitten him when he hadn’t kissed her back. Then she’d gone all sweet on him again. It had lasted only few minutes, until he’d refused to tell her where to find Dean, or whether it was true that Dean could walk in the sun._ _

__The woman... vampire... could punch. And she had, again and again. He’d passed out, then awakened to cold water dumped over his head. Then came the metal pokers. She’d skewered him with them. He could see the end of one, sticking out of his side. It had hurt like a son of a bitch, but his side was numb now. And that numbness was spreading through the trunk of his body, radiating to his limbs._ _

__Drusilla put her hands over the eyes of her obsession. “Pretty dark prince you are, but dark will be all you see unless you tell me if the one who tasted you has a pretty red ring. Don’t you want to walk in the sun?” She said into his ear, then ran a tongue from his shoulder, up the side of his neck. “Sweet like honey,” she murmured as her tongue ran over some rivulets of blood. “Red ring. Tell Mumsey, if that boy has my ring.”_ _

__A shudder of revulsion ran through Spike. He tried pulling away from her, but there wasn’t much room for movement. His eyelashes fluttered against her palms and dark thoughts took hold in his mind. Did she mean she would blind him next? “Don’t know what you want. Don’t... know.”_ _

__She dug her fingernails into his cheeks and scratched him on both sides as she screamed. “I’ll find your taster, I’ll find him and kill him. I am your only true love.” She walked around and stared down at him. “I’ll bite that ring off his finger. I’ll rip out his throat. I’ll drive a wooden stake into his vampire heart and swallow up that nasty nasty soul he has.” She turned and looked at the ceiling. “I will. I know the gypsy ways. Favorite daughter I was. They gave Angelus back his soul and turned him all bright and shiny because of me.” She pouted at that. “He was much less fun after he got back his soul. Souls aren’t worth the energy they’re made of.” She hummed a little ditty then turned back to Spike. “Tell me and I’ll let him live I will. Tell me, my pretty prince.”_ _

__Not only was she barely making any sense, but all the hits he’d taken and the blood he’d lost had weakened him, body and mind. “Didn’t know he was a bloody vampire. Helped me fight evil. Don’t know anything more,” he said, though he knew he was wasting his breath._ _

__She flew into a new rage and grabbed another poker from the fire she’d built inside an old cast iron tub. “You lie! You lie! You love the naughty one when you’re supposed to love me!” She buried the poker inside his chest, driving it into his left lung. “You’re my prince, not that naughty boy’s. Mine.”_ _

__“Aaaaaarghhh.” White hot pain tore him apart, searing his lungs, ripping up his insides. He heard shouting. Screaming. It took a while to sink that those were his own hoarse screams._ _

__He pulled his head slightly up and saw her through his less swollen eye. She was right there. In his face. The last thing he’d ever see. And she was smiling at him, like he’d just said something funny._ _

__“I’ll see you in hell, bitch.” He slammed his forehead against hers so hard, he was blinded. And then he slipped into the arms of the waiting darkness._ _


	8. Chapter 8

Dean stopped off at his place and mixed up some incense that he smudged on himself to keep his scent hidden, then he headed for the warehouse district, where Spike had met with his stalker. Why hadn’t he told Spike about his own encounter with the stalker? First the blood bank crew, and now Spike was in her clutches. If he’d warned Spike, they’d have known she was the tipster and they could have trapped her. By now, they’d have dusted her and he and Spike would be celebrating with beer and sex. 

He found the place easily enough, between Spike’s smell and Drusilla’s. There were a few drops of Spike’s blood on the cement. She’d likely knocked him out and carried him off. He stood unmoving for several seconds, his eyes closed, as he sorted through the scents. He carefully identified everything that he could, everything that wasn’t them, so he wouldn’t get distracted, so he wouldn’t lose her scent again. He opened his eyes and with fury in his face, began to follow the scents.

He’d been tracking them for over an hour, her scent almost lost in a sewer drain a few times. She was being careful. She suspected Dean would come after them. It didn’t matter though. Nothing she did would stop him. Nothing.

He finally surfaced among some overgrown bushes in the shadow of some long abandoned and boarded up stores. She was in there. In one of them. He was certain of that.

He walked silently along the rear entrances, pausing and listening at every door. At the next to last door he heard a woman chanting. It was soft or distant enough that it took vampire ears to hear it. He pulled out his phone and turned on the recorder and began repeating the words into his phone. He wasn’t sure what she was up to. It wasn’t Latin, that much he knew. 

When she stopped chanting, he moved away, then jumped up to the roof, staying on the concrete ledge so as not to alert her. He turned off the record function and texted his location to Jo. Even though she was on her way, he couldn’t wait. He needed to get a look inside, needed to see Spike’s condition, and find out what she was doing to him. Before he had a chance to act on his decision, the door below him opened. He flattened himself and peered carefully over the edge. It was her. Drusilla. She headed straight for the way he’d come up, for the manhole to the sewer.

He waited until he heard the lid slide back in place, then waited a little longer to be certain she wasn’t immediately coming back. When she didn’t, he jumped to the ground and carefully opened the door. The tripwires were easy to spot and had him carefully making his way across the room. 

It was then that the smell hit him. His fangs elongated immediately, his face changed, and it took everything he had to control the demon. The smell of Spike’s blood was thick. He ran down a hall and turned a corner and saw Spike tied in a chair. He was at Spike’s side instantly, relieved to hear his beating heart.

Dean stared at the pokers still lodged in Spike. If he pulled them out, he might do more damage and it could cause Spike to bleed out that much faster. He needed to get Spike to a hospital. Needed to get him the hell out of here before Drusilla returned.

Ripping his own shirt into strips, he did what he could to stabilize the rods. “It’s gonna be okay,” he soothed. “I’ll get you out of here. I’ll keep you safe. I swear, Spike, you’re going to be okay.” He couldn’t help himself and gave Spike a chaste kiss, licking over his wounded lips to help them heal. He pulled back suddenly, tasting someone else’s blood on his lips. Tasting _her_ blood on Spike’s lips.

Spike’s eyes opened into slits. His vision was blurry, but he made out Dean. “Sight for sore eyes. Didn’t want her to be the last thing I saw,” he rasped, his throat raw. He started to smile a little, and then it hit him. This was real, and Dean was right here. Inside her lair.

“Go. Go...” His voice was barely a whisper. He tried again. “Go... she’s looking for you.” He managed to focus and saw the rebellion in Dean’s eyes. “It’s too late, mate. I’m done for. No... no reason for both of us...” Unable to continue, he gasped for breath. He was drowning... in his own blood flooding his lungs.

“I’m not leaving you. I just found you, dammit. She’s hunting for me all right. I watched her leave. We’ve got some time,” Dean reassured him, stroking Spike’s hair back. Hearing the rales in Spike’s breathing Dean squeezed his shoulder. “This’ll just hurt for a moment. Then you’ll breathe better. I promise. I’m going to bite, get out some of the blood in your lungs.” He took Spike’s hand then positioned himself. Opening his mouth wide, he plunged his fangs into Spike’s chest, pulled them back out and sucked hard, trying to draw out all the blood that wasn’t letting Spike’s lung expand.

This time, Spike shouts were silent screams. His vocal cords were shot, making him incapable of making loud sounds. Dry sobs shook his body and he tried to pull away. If his arms had been free, he’d have pushed Dean away. “Leave me alone. Please...” he rasped, not realizing he’d been able to drag more air into his lungs. He’d been numb before and ready to leave this world... and now, Dean had brought back all the pain.

Dean did what he could, then licked the wounds closed. “Shh, all over,” he said. “It’s the best I can do right now.” The taste of Spike’s blood had him tingling all over, and feeling more alive than he could remember. It was why he didn’t drink directly from humans. You could feel the pulse with every heartbeat, taste their adrenalin, their fear, everything. Even drinking freshly drawn blood wasn’t the same as having your teeth buried in flesh, of sucking that sweet liquid down your throat. It thrilled him, even now, when it shouldn’t.

He closed his eyes and turned his head for a moment, desperately trying to get himself under control. After several slow breaths, he turned back to Spike. “I need to finish bandaging your wounds, then I’ll cut the ropes and carry you out of here. I’ll find a car, steal it, and get you to the closest hospital, okay?”

Spike saw such hope in Dean’s eyes, such determination. He saw all the things they would never be to each other now. “Don’t be a git.” He struggled for a few breaths. “I’m not walking out of any hospital... no amount of bandaging.... Over. It’s over. Time to rest.” He felt tears gather in his eyes. “You listen... you go. Go or she wins,” he pushed himself hard to get his words out. “Go Dean. Live. Fight another day.”

“What the hell’s a git? No, you’re not dying. I swear to you, you’re not dying. And she’s not going to win.” Dean needed more cloth for bandages. “I’ll be right back. Just close your eyes. It’ll be okay.” he said and rose to his feet. 

In the other room, he could smell Drusilla’s blood along with some incense or something. He followed the smells and found a cup that had remnants of blood in it. Her blood. Beside it was an open book. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was some sort of blood ritual. He snapped a photo of the first couple lines and had an app translate for him.

His eyes widened once the translation was complete. He glanced at all of the elements she was using for the ritual, then he stuffed them into a garbage bag he found in one corner of the room. 

By the time he returned to Spike, he’d called 911 with an officer down alert. He’d told them that the FBI agent had been tortured by some lunatic and was close to death. He’d also said there was enough room for a chopper, convincing them to dispatch a helicopter ambulance for Spike, 

Dean busted out the front door and yanked the boards off the windows, letting sunlight pour in. If Drusilla came back, no way she was getting close to them with the sunlight filling the place. He easily lifted Spike, still tied in the chair, and carried him close to the door, then cut all the ropes except those around Spike’s chest that were stabilizing the metal pokers.

“You’ll be in a hospital in twenty minutes. You’re going to be okay.”

Spike had seen a lot of torture and mayhem. He knew there was no coming back from this. But he’d also seen desperate people try desperate things. That desperation was there in Dean’s eyes and in his voice. If pure-will could make one better, Spike would grow to be an old man. “Best hope I don’t make it. First thing I’ll do is arrest your stubborn arse.” He swallowed as he sensed the last of his strength being sapped. “If you’re going to kiss me, now would be a bloody good time.” 

Rather than saying anything else, Dean did exactly that, kissing him passionately, lovingly, desperately. He didn’t even realize his fangs had disappeared at first. He just kept kissing him and holding him and murmuring that Spike would be okay. 

* * *

Jo paced back and forth across the hospital lounge, occasionally looking over at Dean. Three pokers in his body, one through the lung, head trauma and blood loss. Six hours had passed, and no one had come out to talk to them. 

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” Dean said, giving a yawn. He’d been up all day and half the night at this point. “Why don’t you go get us some decent coffee?”

“He’s like freaking ‘Humpty Dumpty,’ they’re not going to be able to put him together again,” she said, ignoring his request. 

Dean gave a sigh. “Drusilla gave him some of her blood. Magicked it. I don’t know the details yet, I need someone who can read ancient Romanian, but the blood will keep him alive. Not turn him. Heal him. She wouldn’t have left him to die. Not after everything she’s done. He’ll pull through this.”

She gave a snort of disbelief, and started pacing again. “Did you see the birthday balloons, and cake? Just what the hell?” She didn’t expect an answer. “And why didn’t she turn him?” Jo demanded. Deep down, she knew the questions were useless. They were dealing with a demented vampire and what made sense to her would not make sense to anyone else.

“The chick is full-fledged insane. It’s hard to tell what’s going through--,” Dean stopped. “Twenty and eight. That was always in the killings, written on the walls or whatever. Spike just turned twenty-eight.”

“Cake had twenty-eight candles,” she agreed, walking back to the sofas. This wing of the hospital was eerily quiet. Many of the patients had been moved, and in their place, were agents with lots of fire power. 

“I hope she shows her face,” Jo ground out. “I have bullets with her name on them.”

“She won’t. Not in the hospital. Too many people. She’ll wait until he’s moved somewhere. Probably. With crazy chicks, who knows though,” Dean said and pushed himself to his feet. “I’m going to get some cof--” He stopped mid-sentence and looked up the hallway. “The doctor’s coming.”

Jo turned on her heels. The blood drained out of her face as she waited for them to get to the lounge. “Is he...”

“Stable for now,” the doctor said. The details he gave about the surgery flew over Jo’s head. “Can we see him?”

“We’ve induced a coma, so he won’t be able to speak with you, but you may see him. They should bring him up to his room shortly. A nurse will call you.”

Dean gave Jo a small smile. “See. He’ll pull through. He has to. I’ll go get us some coffee. I’ll be right back. Stay sharp...in case I’m wrong about loco-girl.”

“You bet,” she answered once the doctors had walked away. 

*

Forty-five minutes later, they were still sucking down coffee and waiting for word that Spike had been brought upstairs and to get his room number. “I would go and bother the nurse’s station again but I don’t want them taking it out on him,” Jo said.

Just then, the sound of footsteps had both of them turning in time to see about six FBI agents walk into the lounge. “They haven’t brought him up yet--” Jo started to explain, but was cut off by Robert.

“Yeah we know.”

“So...?” She asked, getting a strange vibe from them.

“So we’re here to arrest Dean.”

Dean’s head snapped up. He’d hear them out, but he was already contemplating ways to bolt from the hospital.

“On what charges?” She asked, crossing the room toward them.

“Failure to obey the orders of a Federal agent,” Robert said. “Spike’s orders, but if you want to see him first...” A smile cracked the somber expression he’d been sporting.

The air rushed out of Dean. “The asshole. Yeah, I want to see him. So I can tell him next time I’ll leave him to bleed. Where is he? ...And you’re not really going to arrest me...right?” Dean asked, not entirely trusting of any cop.

“Right down the hall, sixth room on the left. The rest of the rooms are empty. Get going,” he laughed and waved Dean off.

Jo took a step, then halted. “I’ll be in there in a few,” she said, deciding to give the two men some time first.

Dean gave her a look, then a slight smile and nod of thanks. His strides were long as he hurried to Spike’s room. He paused at the doorway and looked in on the man lying in the bed. “What’s this crap about trying to arrest me. I had to break Robert’s arm for trying.”

“Told you I would,” Spike answered, pressing a button on the remote so that the back of the bed rose top put him into a semi-sitting position. He made a face and a soft gasp of pain escaped him, but he settled back. “Why are there two of you? This your idea of doubling the fun?” he asked, blinking. 

“I know how you dream of having two of me. Just trying to keep up with your expectations,” Dean said crossing over to him and leaning down, giving him a gentle kiss. “How you feeling, you pessimistic git?”

“Like a lorry rolled over me, otherwise great. Did I tell you that you’re a sight for sore eyes? Couldn’t have been happier to open my eyes to you. Course then you had to go ruin it...” He lifted his face up, and wasn’t disappointed. The kiss was no more than a brush of Dean’s lips over his, but it was enough.

“I was in full vamp mode,” Dean said, making a face. “Sorry about that. I think I look much better like this. And you’re a sight for sore eyes too.” Dean took Spike’s hand. “I thought I was going to lose you. I called in a fucking helicopter and even rode in the damned thing. Do you know how much I hate to fly, you jerk?”

“I think you might have mentioned it. Some scary vampire you are ...” He gave a short laugh and squeezed Dean’s hand, then sobered. “She’s a vampire. Belongs in bloody bedlam. Said she was waiting for me to reach the perfect age. Twenty-eight... two plus eight is ten... didn’t make a lick of sense.” 

“Eight is the symbol for infinity if you knock it sideways. Two together for infinity. That’s my best guess anyhow. And yeah, I have a confession...” Dean released Spike’s hand so he could pull over a chair. “I ran into her the night at the bar. She made it pretty clear she was your stalker and knocked me over the bar, smashing my phone. I left because I was trying to track her down, following her scent.”

Spike opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Dean went on. 

“When I finally lost her, I pulled out my phone to call you, only to find my phone was smashed. I didn’t remember your cell number so the only thing I figured I could do was crash, get up the next day, get a new phone and call you. The next morning you woke me up and told me about the blood bank and everything just sort of went away when I got lost in you.” Dean gave a shrug. “I’m sorry. As soon as I woke up to find you gone, Jo and I tried to get in touch with you but it was already too late. If I’d just told you at the bar...” He felt a tear slip down his cheek and hastily wiped it away.

Reaching out, Spike took Dean’s hand. “You got lost in me... makes sense.” Threading his fingers through Dean’s, he closed his eyes for a moment. “If it hadn’t been today, it would have been tomorrow. She’s not going to stop until I’m dead or vamped.” He opened his eyes again. “When I told her she wasn’t my type, she said that vampires have broad tastes. She thought I would switch teams... then she got angry about something I’d said, and she skewered me again and left me to die. You have to be careful. She’s after you now,” he said, his eyes locked with Dean’s.

He felt such relief that Spike forgave him for not telling him, that he could hardly answer at first. He made his mind and mouth work. Damn he was being such a fucking chick about Spike. “She planned to keep you as a guardian,” Dean said. “She’s got some sort of ritual that she can give you her blood and keep you forever young and healthy, but not vamped. That way you can watch over her during the day, be her protector. With you turning her down, she may choose to try to vamp you, or use something to make you accept her. No doubt she wants me out of the way. I’m her competition and she knows it. Don’t worry, I’ve been hunted all my life by something. And yes, I realize she’d damned dangerous. I won’t get stupid. More stupid. Whatever.” 

“You mean do anything stupid like stand around in her lair?” 

“I made sure she was gone! And I’d have heard her come back!” he protested.

Spike made a grumpy noise. “Just don’t … I couldn’t stand it if you... you know.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not getting rid of me that easy, don’t worry.” Dean leaned in and gave Spike a more thorough kiss, but was careful of his injuries. He ignored the sound of a throat clearing. He could tell it was Jo and kissed Spike another few seconds before finally breaking off.

“This is not the way to get the vacation you were wanting, Brighton,” she said, grinning as she approached Spike and then stood on the other side of his bed, across from Dean. 

“Good to see you too,” he answered. “You look like you might need some sleep.”

“Gee, thanks,” she answered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Bet you were too scared to say that to your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend.” Spike gave a laugh. “But now that you mention it...”

Dean lightly tightened his hold on Spike’s hand. “Watch it, or I’ll tell all the other agents you and me are a thing,” he warned Spike. “Oh and while I’ve been waiting with Miss Sunshine, here, I’ve been hearing all sorts of tales about you.” He gave Jo an innocent smile.

As soon as Spike’s accusing gaze turned to her, Jo raised her hands up. “Sorry, it wasn’t like we were expecting you to make it.”

Before Spike could answer, a team of doctors walked in. 

A nurse said, “I told you.”

“This is impossible. Could I have the room cleared,” the doctor asked as he approached Spike. “You were in a coma when you the recovery room.”

“Right. And now I’m not,” Spike answered, allowing the doctor to open up the front of his hospital gown. He winced at the cold press of the doctor’s stethoscope, but raised his hand. “My friends can stay.”

“You don’t understand, we induced a coma.... you should still be in a coma because … well the pain should be killing you. We’ll need to run tests.”

“Hold on now, I’ve been poked enough today. Run your tests tomorrow,” Spike said. 

Dean had let Spike’s hand go as soon as he heard the approach of footsteps. It was, after all, up to Spike whether or not he wanted their relationship known. “Spike, when you sat up, I heard that gasp of pain. And you’re grumpy. Let the docs give you some painkillers and get some rest. You’ll heal faster.”

Spike gave a nod. “Painkillers, but no tests. Not now.”

“But...”

“Alright, you heard the man. Give the nurse his prescription, and we’ll see all of you tomorrow. You should clear out as many people as possible... there is still the possibility of another attempt...”

Spike actually laughed as Jo shepherded all the physicians out of the room. “I don’t want to see anything sharp and pokey for a bit, yeah?” he told Dean. “Let’s have them bring a cot in here for you, if that’s alright.” He wanted Dean here partly to be sure he was protected, but also because he didn’t want his vampire boyfriend going after Drusilla half-cocked and on his own. 

“I’m good with that,” Dean said, not really wanting to sleep with one eye open or worry about how Spike was doing. “Jo and I can trade out crashing on the cot.” His gaze went to her in the doorway. “She shouldn’t go to the hotel or anywhere right now. She’s as much a target as I am. Less so, but still a target. Since she’s been up longer, she can take the first crash on the cot.”

“I’ll find somewhere else to crash,” she said. “You’ll owe me one.” With that, she was gone.

“Have you... eaten?” Spike asked. 

Dean shook his head. “Yesterday when I woke up I had a pint and when I...helped relieve the pressure in your chest, that was sort of a...snack. I can go a while longer without any problem. If I get too hungry, well I do work at the blood bank. They know me here and I can use some excuse to lay hands on something. Though as I understand it, Hellmouth vamps can go for like months or years without eating. Not pleasant I’d bet, but possible.” He settled back into the chair and took Spike’s hand again. “Or am I being insensitive and you’re trying to tell me you’re hungry, or I’m sounding grumpy?” he teased.

“I was just thinking they should have blood...we’re in a hospital. If you need to eat, go eat, but don’t leave. Take Jo with you. She might harass you about it but...” Lifting Dean’s hand, he kissed it. “If and when we face Drusilla again, you’re going to need all your strength. That means food and sleep.”

Dean smiled at the way Spike kissed his hand. “I’ll sleep first. It’ll be easier to get to the blood when there are less people around. Besides, I always wake up hungry whether I’ve eaten or not. It’s kinda like taking blood from someone in China. An hour later and you’re hungry again.”

“Chinese food.” Spike’s laughs were interspersed with sounds of pain. “Not funny, making a hurt man cry.”


	9. Chapter 9

It was late, though Spike didn’t know the time. When he woke, he could see around the room by the low lights that the nurse had left on. A dark form kept shifting around on a cot pushed up against the wall. Dean.

Spike pressed the button on the bed railing, adjusting the mattress so he was half-sitting up. Hesitantly, he explored his chest and his stomach areas. He could feel the thick padding of bandaging, but there was surprisingly little pain. It was impossible!

His heart raced as he struggled with wires and the railing, wanting out of the bed. Had she vamped him? He wasn’t craving anything, other than a nice sandwich and a coffee. Still...

Dean sat up and looked at Spike. “Hey there. Where are you trying to go? And that heart rate is going to bring the nurses running. What’s wrong?” he said getting up and carefully pushing Spike back onto the bed. “Let’s not be ripping out those stitches or superglue or whatever they used on you.

“I need to go the lavatory... I need to see...” Spike protested, pushing Dean away. “Let me up.”

“Bedpan. Doctor’s orders. You need to see what, Spike?” He could tell Spike was very upset about something. “What’s wrong?” he asked again, putting his free hand along Spike’s cheek.

Spike rubbed his hand across his neck, searching. “Did she bite me? Bloody hell, Dean, either help me or move out of my way,” he growled, forcing his legs off the bed. 

“Dude, are you afraid she turned you? Hello, heartbeat-guy, you’re fine and no, she didn’t bite you.” He stood in Spike’s way, not really wanting Spike out of bed yet. He knew the docs would have a heart attack or something over it.

Spike processed that. Yes, he did have a heartbeat. He took a few breaths, then clapped his hand on Dean’s shoulder and pulled himself up, despite the fact that there was barely any room between Dean and the bed. “Move,” he said with a quiet firmness.

Dean stepped back a little. “Let’s get these off you so you don’t rip the plugs out,” Dean said and began popping off the multiple wires attached to Spike’s chest. “Just stand still for a minute. And I’ll keep the docs off your back while you’re in the bathroom. If you start to hurt, don’t push it. I’ll help you back to bed, okay? Okay. I think I got them all.” He stepped out of Spike’s way but stood ready to help him if he needed it.

Reining in his irrational impatience, Spike allowed Dean to free him from the wires and tubes. He took an experimental step. Then another. Then a longer stride. “I don’t hurt,” he said, moving more naturally as he crossed the room and pulled the lavatory door open.

Switching the light on, he squinted and stepped inside. Immediately, he was tugging on the string ties on the side of the hospital gown, trying to get free of the material. 

Dean moved toward the door and when a nurse came rushing in, he put up his hand. “He wanted to go to the bathroom. He said he felt well enough to stand and walk.”

The nurse began to protest.

“I know, but he’s a stubborn cuss. We’ll call you when he comes back out and you can hook the wires back up, okay?” Dean soothed, giving her one of his best smiles. 

She hesitated, muttered something about calling the doctor, and returned to her station.

“I’d say you’ve got maybe five minutes,” Dean called in to Spike, “before the doc shows up to poke and prod you.”

Spike didn’t answer as he worked the gown open. The thick bandaging was held into place by wide bands of medical tape. Biting his lower lip against the pain, Spike ripped part of it away from his skin. When the bandaging loosened, he fell against the sink-- not because of the pain, but because of what he saw. 

The sound of Spike’s collapse had Dean instantly yanking the bathroom door open. He rushed to Spike’s side, trying to ignore the mirror that gave him the creeps. “Babe, what’s wrong,” he asked, his forehead creasing with concern.

Raising his eyes in the mirror and seeing no one behind him, Spike snapped his head to the side. Right. Vampire. He was still gripping the edge of the sink with one hand, but he pulled his gown to the side with the other to let Dean see. “There’s no pain because there’s hardly any marks. Did you... do something?” he asked, not really knowing what Dean could have done.

Dean looked at Spike’s chest and couldn’t help glancing a little lower, before bringing his attention back to Spike’s chest. “No. Drusilla did a ritual and magicked her blood with some gypsy magic I’d guess, since the spell is Romanian and she’s a gypsy. It heals you. Makes you stronger. Keeps you forever young, so long as you keep taking it… I think. I’ve only gotten back bits and pieces of the translation so far from my contacts. Nothing indicates it permanently changes you into her bitch or vamp or anything. It’s just a healing potion type thing, for someone you love. Works better than I figured it was going to,” Dean admitted. “And I got no idea how you’re going to explain this to the doctors.”

“I’m not.” Spike ran a hand over his face, then shook his head. “So she almost killed me because she knew I wouldn’t die. Now it makes sense, at least in insane-logic,” he said.

Hearing voices approaching from the corridor, he quickly pulled the gown closed and started for his bed, holding onto Dean as if he needed help. “I’m checking out of here the moment the sun comes up. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Your choice,” Dean said, giving him a smile and “helping” him back into bed. He looked up at the doctor who came in. “He’s fine, and doesn’t want to get hooked back up to the machines.”

“He doesn’t have a choice,” the doctor said. “After the length of the surgery, the damage done to his organs, to his head, and his blood loss, he needs to be monitored.” He focused on Spike. “And he shouldn’t be walking himself to the bathroom or he’ll end up back in surgery.” 

“He carried me,” Spike said. “Stronger than he looks.” He gave a nod and pinched Dean’s biceps for emphasis. “I’m fine, and I refuse further treatment for now.”

The doctor nodded to the nurse. “You will, at least, continue to be monitored.”

The nurse started to move towards the equipment where the wires were hanging. Dean strode around and stood between the nurse and Spike. “You heard the man. He’s refusing all treatment for the moment. I’ll keep an eye on him. If he has even the slightest hiccup of an issue, we’ll call the nurse’s station.”

“We need a record of what might have caused that ‘hiccup’ as you call it,” the doctor said, trying very hard to remain civil.

Reaching for the wiring, Spike snapped one into place. He waited for Dean to get the other one, but shook his head ‘no’ to the IV. “We’re done here.” His laser stare won out, and the medical professionals walked out muttering under their breaths.

“Is this thing going to go haywire if you join me in the bed?” Spike asked, moving over and looking at Dean suggestively. “I felt you checking out my arse.”

Dean gave a soft laugh. “Depends what we do in that bed. And I checked out your frontside, not your backside in the bathroom. Needed to make sure everything was okay down there, too,” he said as he got on the bed beside Spike. “These things aren’t really made for couples.” Pulling Spike close he kissed him the way he’d wanted to since he first laid eyes on him when Drusilla had him.

Kissing Dean back, Spike started to tug on him, pulling him on top. He wasn’t satisfied until all of Dean’s weight pressed down on him, confirming he was alive, and so was Dean. The dull pain radiating from his stomach only made him want this more. He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, then down his back. When Dean broke the kiss and lifted his head, Spike asked, “Is that what we are then? A couple?” His eyes shined with a light that hadn’t been there in a long time. 

Dean hesitated a moment then gave a nod. “If you want to be, I’d like that. A lot. But Spike, you just got-- or you will have soon, I’m certain-- your freedom back to date anyone you want. You sure you want to be stuck with the bottom of the barrel, washed up, undead hunter?”

Spike stared at him for a long moment. “You’re absolutely right. I could do a lot better. Find someone who likes mustard, not ketchup. Who reads about deaths in the paper and is convinced it’s a psycho human, not psycho vamp, even if the victims were drained of blood. And who’s got a handsome mug... Who do you think I should start with?” he asked, shifting his knee between Dean’s legs and moving it up and down. “Robert? Or... that doctor who just came in. He was checking my arse too, you know.” 

Dean gave a soft groan at the pressure Spike was putting on his cock. “I-- Fuck yeah, we’re a couple and you’re my boyfriend, and nobody better be checking out your _arse_ but me. You good with that?” Dean asked, locking gazes with Spike.

“Heart meter says...” Spike paused and looked up to the heart monitor beeping faster. “Yes.” He kissed Dean, running his hands over his back and swirling his tongue in his mouth, tangling their tongues together in a slow, hot dance. “Rest of me agrees. Mmmm yeah, definitely agrees,” he said when Dean shifted to press his thigh against Spike’s hardening cock. 

“Good. Cause I don’t hold just anyone’s hand, you know. Or make out in a hospital bed. No wait, I have done that before...” Dean said.

Spike shoved him. “Really don’t want to hear about how _broad_ a vampire’s tastes run.”

Dean laughed. “I love it when you get all jealous. And don’t worry, I’m a one FBI agent kinda guy.” He pulsed his leg against Spike’s solid erection. 

Pulling Dean’s head down, Spike locked lips with him and kissed him with everything he had. If this was just a dream, it was a really good one, and he didn’t want to let go of it. And if it wasn’t... they had a big hurdle ahead of them. There was no uncertainty. Drusilla would push both of their backs up against the wall now and there was no going back. Either they’d destroy her, or she would them. But this, what Dean offered, someone to share his life with, this was worth fighting for. 

The beeping got louder and more incessant, irritating enough to cause Spike to break the kiss. “ _She_ can’t take _this_ away from us,” he said, “this is all ours. Yours and mine.” 

“You couldn’t get involved with anyone because of her and I’ve never dared, because of what I am. Not something you can exactly tell most people. You’re who I want. You take away the loneliness,” Dean said. “And I swear I never get this chick-flicky, except with you.” He began kissing Spike again and felt his fangs elongate. He inadvertently nipped Spike’s lip. The blood hit his tongue and he sucked Spike’s lip into his mouth, careful not to hurt him again but even as the smallest drops of blood spread into his mouth, his cock grew even harder and heavier.

The flash of pain had Spike jerk up. An order for Dean to get a hold of himself was at the tip of Spike’s tongue when he felt Dean’s move against him, felt how hard he’d gotten. Clamping his hands over Dean’s ass, he squeezed and tugged him down as he raised his own hips up, groaning softly. “Think I’m jealous of my own blood,” he complained between kisses.

Dean’s soft moans became interspersed with a few chuckles. “It’s all you, baby, I promise,” he murmured. The way Spike pulled him close, brought their groins together so firmly, was almost torture. His cock pressed hard against his jeans, but Spike only had on the light hospital gown that was open in the front. Dean finally broke off the kissing and lifted up so one arm supported his weight. “Dammit, give me some room,” he growled at Spike and his tight hold as Dean unfastened his belt. He practically ripped it from the belt loops and popped open his jeans, trying to push them down. 

Spike reeled at the thought of doing it here. “You’re going to... right,” he took a couple of heavy breaths and grabbed at the remote. His hand was unsteady but he managed to turn the lights up. Eyes fixed on Dean, he started to help him push his pants down. “Want to see you,” he explained. “Want to know exactly who it is that’s fucking me.” 

Dean planted a kiss on his lip. “I just wanted to have us skin to skin,” he said. “We’ll save the proper fucking for a more private place, okay? Where we won’t be interrupted. Though I bet I could track down some K-Y pretty easily here.” He grinned at Spike. “Course that would involve getting out of bed.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Spike growled, jerking him down hard on top of him. He tugged the sheet. “Covering your arse in case Jo decides to show. She’s got the worst timing and we have the same taste in men.” He chuckled, but sobered the instant Dean moved against him. He started to tug Dean’s shirt up, needing to touch and feel more of him. “So bloody gorgeous,” he said, his eyes dark with the heat of passion, but the intrusive beeping had him aiming a sour look at the heart monitor. 

“You could call her and tell her to keep the nurses and doctors out. That we’re doing a little therapy,” Dean said, grinning at him. He helped finish getting his shirt off then pushed himself up, pressing down his hips in the process. “Yeah, you definitely are ’bloody’ gorgeous. How’d I’d get so lucky you have terrible taste in guys?” He tilted his head back as he rocked his hips, rubbing their cocks against each other. “This will be so worth getting kicked out of your room,” Dean murmured, then refocused his gaze on Spike. “You’re a living wet dream, you know that?”

“And you’re better than any dream I’ve ever had.” Spike greedily moved his hands over every inch of Dean’s smooth skin, loving the sensation of rippling muscles under his arm. He slid his hands up and down Dean’s sides, then he moved his hands slightly to brush his thumbs over his nipples. All the while, he met Dean thrust for thrust, lifting his hips and moaning softly as their bodies rubbed. “So bleeding hard....” he groaned, then chuckled. “I need to find more vampire-friendly terms.” 

“Ungh, yeah, that’s… perfect,” Dean murmured, thrusting in sync with Spike. “Nothing wrong with your terms. And your blood makes me practically cream my jeans. You better be glad I’m...oh, fuck...” Dean said, his sentence lost when his nipples pebbled under Spike’s touch, causing him to grind his hips a little harder and faster.

“Glad you’re what?” Lifting his head, Spike tried to lick Dean’s nipple. Unable to reach it in this position, he settled for sucking on the sensitive skin at the side of the neck as he tweaked his nipples. Dean’s shudder sent heat lancing through him. “Bout to cream my bloody gown.” 

“...Lucky I’ve learned not to bite, or dude, fuck, I’d like to.” Spike sucking on his throat practically made his eyes cross and he lost his rhythm, his thrusts growing erratic. He clenched his jaw closed to make certain he didn’t make a liar out of himself. He couldn’t help the low growl of pleasure though. The rush of Spike’s blood was practically a siren song to him. His smell, the sound of his heart, the scent of his arousal. He’d been with many partners since he’d become a vampire, but none did to him what Spike did. And that almost scared him.

“Another time, maybe.” The words simply flew from Spike’s lips, though he wasn’t certain he’d ever go there. But right here, right now, with all the need building inside him, with Dean’s scent surrounding him, there was only one thing he could focus on. “Harder,” he growled, gripping Dean’s hips and pulling him down more firmly against him. Each thrust had him seeing white lights behind his eyelids. “Dean...” he whispered roughly, and then he was coming.

He felt the tension building in Spike, felt the tension building in himself. When Spike asked for harder, he gave it to him. When he heard Spike say his name, something inside him practically exploded, the husky voice shooting through him. He felt the warmth spread between them and he followed, his balls twisting so hard against him it was almost painful. “Spike!” Dean cried out, strangling his voice back, his own spunk pouring from him.

He plastered himself against Spike and rode out the waves, thrusting as he locked his chin over Spike’s shoulder, making certain he wouldn’t lose himself in the moment and bite.

Eyes squeezed tight, Spike moved against Dean, wringing out every last drop of what he had to offer. He touched and stroked Dean, sometimes brushing his mouth across Dean’s cheek or his shoulder. He whispered, muttered, about how good it felt to be with him. Then he demanded a kiss, locking lips with Dean the moment Dean allowed it. Spike kissed him hard, with everything he had, with everything that had been denied him for years. 

Dean managed to force his fangs back into hiding. The passion in the kiss made him feel like a first-kissed girl on her dream date. And if that wasn’t chick-flick as hell, he wasn’t sure what was. He kissed Spike back just as hungrily and vowed to himself that if Spike wanted him, he would stay with Spike for as long as he could.

When they finally broke off the kiss, Dean raised up a little and looked into Spike’s eyes. “Spike… I want to try making a go of this. More than just… boyfriends. Longterm-like. You and me--if you do.” He’d never been good at saying things to those he cared about, but it was the best he could do at the moment. He bit his lower lip, hoping Spike felt the same. 

Spike looked up into Dean’s eyes, his hands stilling, his fingers still tangled in Dean’s hair. “You mean... I get a drawer in your crypt?” he asked, mischief lighting up his eyes, despite the seriousness of the moment.

“Well, the rent _is_ cheap. And I get cable. And you can be in my drawers as often as you want.” Dean smiled, his own eyes lighting up in way they never had before.

“Right. I accept. But you realize I move about a lot,” Spike said, brushing Dean’s hair back. “I may be able to transfer to the San Francisco office, but my job calls for a lot of travel.” He knew they were both ignoring the great white elephant in the room. None of this could happen unless they managed to dust Drusilla.

Dean gave a nod. “I spent my entire life moving around until I was vamped. My home was my car. On jobs that are my types of jobs, you can hire me as a consultant and I can come with. Or I can just come with. I can always drop back to part time at the blood bank. Don’t really need the money.”

“Got a vampire’s fortune stashed away, have you?” Spike gave a smirk. “Could even join up and get all the important things like health insurance and a pension.” Closing his arms around Dean, he started the difficult task of trying to reverse their positions. Course that was when he was interrupted by Jo’s sharp tongue.

“Oh. My. God. I did not need that flash of Spike-ass... who’s the vampire here, anyway?” she demanded. “And how about showing a little consideration. All that beeping woke everyone up.” 

“Might be a good time to look away.”

“Might be hoping for a glimpse of--”

“Jo!”

He could hear her laughter as she walked out the door. “We really do share the same taste in men,” he said, giving Dean a look. 

“Like I said, I’m a one FBI agent kinda guy. Unless, well, I suppose a threesome...” he teased as he took matters into his own hands and more or less lifted Spike up and slid under him, then settled Spike back on top of him, wrapping his arms around Spike.

“Vampires and their ‘broad tastes,’” Spike growled, right before bringing his mouth down over Dean’s. His kiss was hungry and fierce, as if he couldn’t get enough. There was so much lost time to make up for. And tomorrow, well that was risky. So Spike took everything he could right now. Weaving his tongue in and out of Dean’s mouth and touching him all over, memorizing every hard plane of his body. 

Dean responded to Spike’s touches and kisses with touches and his own possessive kisses. Anything he loved always got ripped away from him. Why would Spike be any different? With that thought in the back of his mind, he focused everything on the moment, because he didn’t want the moment to come when Spike wasn’t there.

* * * 

The house they’d rented in the woods was open on all sides. The glass floor to ceiling windows would let them Drusilla coming. That’s what Dean had said. Dean had been reluctant to use Spike as bait, or to allow Jo to stay with them, but once he’d admitted that the only sure lure was Spike, he’d had no more say in the matter.

The cross that Jo had gotten Spike to wear had the unwanted effect of keeping Dean away from him. So there they stood, in front of each other, a few moments before the sun dipped below the horizon. 

“She’ll be here soon,” Dean said, his gaze locking briefly with Spike’s. “I’ll catch her scent long before the cameras spot her. I’ll go and start patrolling. If she somehow gets by me-- she might be insane, but she’s crazy like a fox-- somebody fire a gun in case I’m too far out to hear your heartbeats or voices. Remember, play it cool. She can’t know this is a trap or we’re all fucked. And Jo,” he turned his attention on Spike’s partner, “keep in mind you are one-hundred percent dispensable as far as Dru is concerned. I do not want to attend anyone else’s funeral. Be damned careful. She scares me and I’m damned near fearless. Got it?” 

“Yes _boss_ ,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. “You watch your ass too.”

“Dean...” Spike took a step toward him, then grabbed his hand. “You may be hard to kill but... I don’t want to find a pile of dust,” he said. “She won’t kill me, but she’s gunning for you.”

“Look, she may be an old vamp compared to me, but I spent twenty some years going up against supernatural sons-of-bitches as nothing more than human. I know my weaknesses, and I know she wants me dusted. I promise you, I’ll be careful. You do the same. You still owe me some fucking hot sex.” He glanced at Jo. “Sorry about the TMI.” He leaned in, carefully avoiding the cross as he planted a light kiss on Spike’s lips. “I’ll be close by. Be safe.” With a smile and wink, he slipped out the door.

“He’s hiding something,” Spike pronounced, turning to look at Jo.

“In his pants? TMI,” she said, grinning and reaching for her gun. “The sensors should tell us if she’s on approach, but I’ll watch this side of the building,” she said, crossing the room.

Spike didn’t answer, but he moved closer to the window and stared out at the darkness. “You watch your arse too, Harvelle. Don’t want to have to break in a new partner.”

* * *

Dean stared at the house for a good few minutes, still smelling Spike’s scent in his nostrils, still tasting him on his lips. “Be safe, no matter what happens,” he murmured softly and headed toward the place he had parked a rental car. As soon as he reached it, he jumped in and started the engine, heading for the set of abandoned shops he’d challenged Drusilla to come to. 

He’d told Spike and Jo that Drusilla’s priority would be to get her prize, Spike. He’d lied. He’d known that before anything else, Drusilla would come after him. The way she’d gone after Spike’s prior lovers. In her crazy-fucked-up mind, Spike would be hers if Dean was dead. 

To keep Spike and Jo safe, he’d played along with them. Helped them set up traps for her at the cabin, knowing full well that wasn’t where Drusilla would go. 

Dean would face her alone, and only one of them would walk out.

*

Dean arrived at the strip mall and did a walk around. No sign of her yet, but he was two hours early. He double-checked everything, then settled down in the central shop. He wondered how long it would take Spike to realize that his leather coat was gone.

*  
He heard the scrape of the door opening and smiled to himself. There was no tale-tell heartbeat so it was surely Drusilla. “I’m in here, bitch,” he said simply, knowing she’d be able to easily hear him.

He watched the doorway and stood up when the dark-haired woman glided into the room. 

“Naughty and foolish boy. Why do you think he is yours?” she asked as she stopped a handful of steps away from Dean.

“Well, one, his taste don’t swing to women. But you should know that. You’ve stalked him all his life.”

“Vampires learn. Not just opposites but the same attract. Not just same, but opposites attract. Who sired you, you naughty, naughty boy?”

“Doesn’t matter. I dusted him. Like I’m going to dust you. Or you can leave now and never show your scrawny-ass or bug-eyed face anywhere within a thousand miles of Spike. He’s chosen me. And thanks for that forever young ritual. That’ll come in handy if he decides to stay with me for a long, long time.”

Drusilla hissed at him and before he realized it, she was in front of him, slashing her nails across his neck. He jumped back, slamming his fist into her jaw as he clamped his other hand across the deep wound. “Hey now. Thought we were talking all friendly-like.”

She stumbled back then straightened. “The blond prince is mine. He was always meant to be mine. From the time Angelus took me into the night, I knew. I saw my prince of darkness, my protector. The things he and I will do together will be written in the annals of the watchers. He’ll earn his name. You, you will be forgotten. Never known except to… Sam. You have a brother.” She smiled. “I should like to meet your Sammy. And his wife. And their children. Spike and I will visit them and they will know what a demon Dean Winchester became.”

Dean growled low in his chest. “You leave my brother out of this, bitch!” he ground out. “He’s happy. He’s got a life. Leave him alone!” Dean rushed her, only to be rewarded with a backhand from her that sent him flying into some old packing materials.

“Naughty boy has his loves. Naughty loves. Did your brother ever know?”

“I didn’t love him like _that,_ ” Dean seethed, climbing to his feet. “Damn, you’re even uglier in good lighting,” he muttered. “Spike’ll never love you. You get that? Even if I’m dead, dusted, and burning in Hell, he’ll still love me and want me and long for me. Not for you, Drusilla. He’ll be as lost to you as Angelus is.”

That apparently struck a nerve in the vampiress and she rushed Dean, a high-pitched scream on her lips, her hands curled like claws. Diving away from her attack, Dean rolled up to his feet, only to find her already there and at him, slashing across his chest and abdomen and face.

“Mine. Mine! He is mine!” she screeched.

Dean fell back. “No. He’s not,” Dean insisted. “I can still taste him on my lips and in my mouth.” The next thing Dean knew he was lifted off the ground by the throat, Drusilla’s eyes pure fury and brimstone.

“Not the naughty boy’s! Not! He will love me. He will always love me. Like fire and ice we are, burning and crackling, melting and boiling. You don’t know love. You’re cold inside. So cold.”

Kicking off the wall, Dean planted a booted foot in her gut. “Not anymore. Not since Spike,” he hissed at her as he fell to the ground when she had no choice but to release him.

They circled each other slowly, Drusilla feinting an attack now and again. Dean let her drive him back toward the counter. When he was close enough he reached underneath and grabbed the coat, throwing it in her face. “This is all of him you’ll ever get. He’s mine now. Mine forever!” he shouted and ran for the side door that took him into the next shop.

The scents of her love washed over her and she shuddered at the smell of the one who was meant to be hers. She grabbed the trench coat and inhaled deeply, feeling his scent, his essence, re-invigorating her. At least until she smelled _him_ on the coat, _his_ essence mixed with Spike’s.

With renewed fury she dashed after Dean, the only thought on her mind of ripping his head from his body.


	10. Chapter 10

As minutes turned to hours, the two special agents paced the length and width of the house a hundred times. Dean wasn’t answering his phone and Spike couldn’t shake the feeling something was off. Then he realized his lucky trench coat was gone.

“Balls!” he grit out.

“Where?” Jo asked, her fingers tightening around her weapon. “Where is she?”

“Not here. We’ve been had,” he said, grabbing some of their gear. “Come on, and start a trace on Dean’s phone. Now!”

In the car, he ranted like mad, occasionally asking if she had a trace on Dean’s phone yet. “He made it seem like it was my idea to play bait, but it was what he wanted all along. He was never out here with us. He’s the one playing bait.” Why else would Dean take his coat? Carry his scent with him to draw Dru out? “Got anything?”

“Not since thirty seconds ago when you asked me,” Jo shot back. “You know, I told him we have the firepower to handle her and he still had to go it alone.... got it! Turn right, go!”

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the strip mall’s parking lot.

“Odd place,” Jo noted, opening her door even before Spike had brought the car to a complete stop. 

They raced toward the building. An open door repeatedly slammed against the frame, pushed by the wind. Broken glass covered the pavement near the building. It wasn’t long before they heard the crashing sound of breaking furniture. 

“Jo?”

“Locked and loaded,” she answered Spike, slipping through the door first and hearing Spike curse at her.

There were holes in the walls of the first store so large that they could duck and walk right through them into the next store. What had obviously been a fight had moved through several stores in the strip mall and, from sounds, it was still in full force. 

A light in the next store seemed to be on the fritz. Drusilla’s sing songy voice carried to them. Spike rushed into the store ahead of Jo to find the pair of vampires trading verbal insults, over him.

“My prince!” Drusilla screamed.

“My fucking boyfriend, you bitch!” Dean yelled back and punched the button on a small remote. The hiss of hydraulics could be heard and the sound of arrows rocketing through the air. Wooden crossbow bolts pierced Drusilla’s chest from four sides, two others missing their mark as she twisted in an effort to avoid them.

“Naughty boy, none through the heart,” she scolded him. “I’ll rip your arms from your shoulders, your legs from your body and feed them to hungry tigers and lions and bears, I will.”

“I wasn’t certain how tall you were,” Dean said, smirking. “Those bolts are blessed and were soaked in holy water for two days.”

Her eyes grew large as the arrows started to smoke and she let out with a scream.

“Oh, and they’re loaded with C-4.” Dean pressed the second button on his remote. Dru’s chest exploded, a shower of dust suddenly filling the room. Dean collapsed against the wall and sank to the floor. “And you’re toast, you psycho bitch.”

As dust permeated the air in the room, Jo gave an “oh, gross,” covering her mouth to prevent herself from inhaling Drusilla debris.

Spike wiped at his face, looked at the mess on the floor, then laser focused his eyes on Dean. “Wouldn’t say she’s the only one who’s toast, mate,” he said.

As he headed for Dean, Jo chimed in. “What the hell were you thinking!”

Spike dropped down onto his knees and saw the blood. He knew it was Dean’s. He was hurt. “Are you alright? Because if you are, I’m going to kick your arse all the way to the car!” His shouts were completely at odds with his gentleness as he helped Dean up.

“Been better. Been worse,” Dean admitted, letting Spike help him to his feet. “Save the ass-kicking for a few days, okay? She did a pretty good job of it. Your coat’s in the other room, by the way.” He glanced over at Jo. “I was thinking it would take a vamp to take out a vamp. Though I told the slayer if she didn’t hear from me in a couple days, to get her ass up her and take Drusilla out so Spike could live a normal life.” He gave Spike a lopsided, if weary, grin. “You’re free. Safe.” He sagged a little against him.

“I am, that.” Spike grinned back. He hadn’t processed all the life-changing ramifications of Drusilla’s death yet. “And you’re not the only one who can fight.” Without warning, he lifted Dean up into his arms in a bridal carry, and smirked. “Might have forgotten to mention the _benefits_ of Drusilla’s blood.”

Hand on her hip, Jo asked, “You’re not gonna kiss are you? You are...” shaking her head in disgust, she grabbed her stuff. “Dean, thanks for wasting my time. Spike, see you in the morning.” Walking over, she dug into Spike’s pocket, grabbed his keys and headed out.

“Dammit, put me down!” Dean complained, but his complaints were silenced when Spike’s lips covered his own. He wrapped his arms around Spike’s neck and kissed him like he owned him. He gave an off-handed wave to Jo and kept right on kissing Spike.

Spike stumbled a little, but didn’t give a fuck that he’d bumped into something. He looked up long enough to maneuver and see the way to the door, and carried on with the kissing at hand. He was free, and he was with the man he wanted to be with, even if the guy was a stubborn bastard.

Dean didn’t let up, not even as he felt the burning against his chest and smelled the scent of singed flesh. He didn’t care. For the chance to have the guy who warmed him like no other had, he’d accept the pain.

Turning around, Spike pushed the door open with his backside, and then they were in the parking lot. Lifting his head, he spotted Dean’s vehicle, and made his way toward it. He couldn’t help kissing Dean again and again, like he couldn’t get enough of him.

When they reached the car, he put him down. As Dean leaned back against the vehicle, by the light of the moon, Spike saw the mark on Dean’s chest. A burn mark that matched the cross Jo had given him. His eyes darted up to meet Dean’s, an unspoken question hanging between them.

“It was worth it,” Dean said simply, reaching up to almost touch the cross but held back. “Crosses and hellmouth vamps aren’t friends,” he said, his chest still burning from where the cross had rested against his skin. 

Spike curled his fingers around the chain and tugged, breaking it. He dropped it into his pocket, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. “You asked me if I want a drawer at your house,” he stated.

“Yeah? And?” Dean asked, his eyes hopeful even though his brain screamed at him not to be.

“I said yes. But--” Spike put his hand on Dean’s chest, to keep him from speaking. “On one condition. None of this... protecting me,” he nodded toward the shops, “or sacrificing yourself,” this time he nodded toward the burn mark on Dean’s chests, “for me crap. I won’t be coddled. Or tricked. This... fighting things, it’s my job as much as it was your job when you were a hunter.”

“I’ll damned well protect you if you’re in the kind of danger you were in with Drusilla.” His voice softened. “Just like, if a vamp hunter is after me, you’ll protect me. We both have to learn not to be stubborn about it and see the sense our partner is talking.” Dean caressed the side of Spike’s face. “I knew you wouldn’t understand, that you wouldn’t listen. She wanted my head on a pike. She also knew I loved you. If you’d have been here, if Jo had been here, she would have used either or both of you against me. I couldn’t have protected you _and_ drawn her into where I needed her. We’ll train. I’ll teach you how to handle yourself against a vamp, okay? I’ll teach you everything I learned as a hunter. Then, yeah, we’ll be on the same footing. I’m sorry, but… I just couldn’t risk you being here.”

A muscle twitched in Spike’s jaw. He wanted to argue that Dean couldn’t know how things would have gone down, and yet he saw his point. “Just... don’t do it again,” Spike answered. If he agreed with Dean, he was sure Dean would take it a step further. “And we’ll train. You might learn a thing or two,” he added. 

Reaching out, he frisked Dean, smirking at the look in his eyes. “Just looking for keys.”

“Dude, I’ve been a hunter, more or less for more years than you’ve been alive.” Dean gave a smirk then. “But I’m always open to learning something new. Keys are in my right front pocket. Should I dig them out or did you want to?” His eyes would have been sparkling with mischief if he wasn’t so damned thrashed feeling.

“I think you know the answer to that.” Spike didn’t rush to find the keys, taking another few moments to grope. Pulling the keys out, he opened the passenger door and helped Dean inside. “Your place, or mine?” he asked, staring down at him.

“Mine. Unless you’re gonna let me bite you. I need blood,” Dean said as he settled into the seat, letting his head roll back against the headrest. As soon as Spike climbed in he grabbed Spike’s hand and brought it to his lips. “You really… you really gonna transfer to here and move in with me?”

“I can’t wait,” Spike answered. “The transfer might take a bit of time. But I’ll make it happen. Haven’t wanted anything more, not in--” He smiled. “Not ever, really. Guess we’re both lucky I was nosing around your graveyard that night,” he said. “Might never have crossed paths otherwise.”

“And you’re lucky I’m a stubborn ass who refuses to stop barking up a tree. I’ve never been in love bef--uh, never been in a long-term relationship. Not really.” He let Spike’s hand go so Spike could start the car but he didn’t stop staring at the man.

Spike felt a flush creep up his face. “Never thought I’d ever hear those words again,” he said. “Tell me again, right and proper, when we get home.” Leaning over, he kissed Dean, then straightened and started the car.

* * * 

Once they’d gotten to the crypt, they sat down for a little while. Spike had a glass of whiskey while Dean had a pint of blood. Spike thought it was amazing how quickly the blood seemed to re-energize Dean.

Once Dean had some strength back, he headed to the shower, trying to tease Spike into joining him. It had been difficult as hell refusing to go in there with him, but Spike had other plans. They’d waited so long to be together, and he was done waiting.

By the time he heard Dean shut the water off, Spike had a quarter full bag of his own blood ready and sitting on the nightstand. It looked like Dean had some supplies from the blood bank and Spike had made himself at home and used them. Course it had taken him about six pokes to get it right and he’d had half a mind to simply cut himself with a knife. But he didn’t think he’d have been able to gather as much blood as efficiently that way.

He stood in the living room, nursing his whiskey, his eyes on the bathroom door.

After Dean dried himself off, he slipped into some sweats and an old t-shirt. They were comfort clothes for him, the type he liked to relax in after a hunt. Although he’d discovered he didn’t really need to shower, he enjoyed the heat and the pulsating water on his muscles. Running the towel through his shortly cropped hair a final time, he hung the towel up and walked out to the main room. The scent of fresh blood hit him square in the face.

“Everything okay?” he asked worriedly, wondering if Spike had cut himself on something. “I smell… your blood.” He walked toward Spike, his gaze roaming over the agent, looking for signs of injury.

“You’re dressed, that’s what’s wrong,” Spike answered, his own gaze sliding down and up Dean’s body, though for entirely different reasons.

Dean chuckled. “Of course I’m dressed. I don’t normally go wandering my house naked. If someone wants me naked, they have to show me just how much they want me naked.” He gave Spike a mischievous smile. 

“Someone wants you naked. Very naked,” Spike answered, setting his drink down and stepping in front of Dean. Leaning in, he nuzzled his neck for a moment. “Smell good. Not dusty anymore,” he said, lifting his head up. Only inches separated their bodies. His gaze dropped to Dean’s lips. 

Dean gave a small groan. “Dammit, do you know what hickeys and biting and stuff do to vampires? It’s almost as good as a blow job.” Dean wrapped his arms around Spike’s waist and tugged him up against his body. He slanted his mouth over Spike’s and slipped his tongue in to investigate Spike’s mouth like it was the first time. One of his hands slipped down to Spike’s ass cheek and kneaded it, pulling Spike even tighter against him.

Giving a soft moan, Spike sucked lightly on Dean’s tongue, and then twisted his own around it. The press of Dean’s hard body against his own started a hundred fires inside him. Closing his arms around Dean, he moved his mouth back and forth, kissing Dean like there was no tomorrow. He pushed his hands under Dean’s soft tee shirt, sliding his hands over his smooth skin. “Mine now. I can tell the bloody world,” he said, between kisses.

“Yours. For as long as you want me,” Dean agreed. “Assuming you’re decent in bed,” he teased.

Hands closing around Dean’s arms, Spike pushed him away and pulled back at the same time, and stared into his eyes. “Bastard,” he huffed. “I’ll show you good in bed.” He drew in a few deep breaths before dragging Dean up against him again, and lowering his mouth over Dean’s. This time, he kissed and groped him like he had something to prove.

Dean couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped from him as Spike grew aggressive. “Mmm, I like you when you’re riled,” he murmured when Spike had to pause to take a breath. He began walking backwards, leading Spike toward the bed.

The urge to rid Dean of his clothes grew stronger. Spike started to single-mindedly undress him as they walked. Tugging on Dean’s tee shirt, he pulled away for a moment, and pulled it up over his head. As his gaze traveled down Dean’s bare chest, his eyes grew hotter. “Don’t think you’ll be needing this,” he said, shoving both hands inside Dean’s sweat pants, covering his ass and slowly pushing the pants down as he nipped on Dean’s throat. “Thought I’d do a bit of riling, myself,” he said.

Dean gave a soft gasp at the hard nip Spike gave him. His own hands pushed and tugged at Spike’s shirt, buttons popping in all directions. “Told you before, too many damned clothes,” he said, seeing the t-shirt under the dress shirt.

“Ruined another perfectly good shirt, and I don’t have any spares here,” Spike complained, though he nipped Dean again, and then shoved his sweats all the way to the ground. As soon as Dean stepped out of them, Spike started shrugging his shirt off. His gaze dropped to the front of Dean’s shorts, then rose back up to meet Dean’s eyes.

Dean gripped the hem of Spike’s t-shirt and as soon as Spike’s dress shirt fell to the floor, he tugged the t-shirt up and over Spike’s head and tossed it aside carelessly. His eyes roved over Spike’s chest hungrily. “Like one of those fancy marble statues with a six-pack,” he said, running his fingers down Spike’s chest, pausing briefly over his heart before continuing down, feeling each muscular ridge and dip. His hands continued to Spike’s belt which he slowly worked open. “Did I ever mention I’m a sucker for blue eyes?” 

“If you’re going to give me a list of your blue-eyed conquests... don’t,” Spike answered, his gaze dropping down to his belt buckle. Seeing Dean’s hands on them sent his heart rate through the roof. “Pull the belt off,” he said, eyes snapping back up to Dean’s. “And then be a good vampire, and get on the bed. I’ve got something I want you to suck on.”

“No mentioning former conquests. Check. But your eyes, they beat them all. Course maybe it’s just cause of whose eyes they are.” Dean yanked the belt free of the loops then crawled backwards onto the bed. “And what exactly did you have in mind for me to suck on?”

The strong tug on his belt sent a jolt of heat straight to Spike’s cock. He was robbed of his speech for a moment, but seeing Dean right where he wanted him, with his back against the metalwork headboard, he smirked. “Not what you think, I reckon.” He approached the bed much like a cat stalking its prey.

When he reached Dean, he bent over and kissed him, moving his mouth down his neck and chest, then to his shoulder and arm. His hand moved down along Dean’s arm, and when he pulled back, he had handcuffs around Dean’s wrist. He slowly pulled the other bracelet up, his eyes locked with Dean’s. Seeing no protest, he pushed the other bracelet over a metal bar on the bed, leaving Dean cuffed to it. “Now for that... sucking...”

Without looking away, Spike reached for the bag with the tubing, and held it out in front of Dean’s free hand.

Dean stared for a long moment at the offered blood. He could smell it was Spike’s. “No, not what I expected,” he said hoarsely. Gripping the bag, he brought the tube to his lips. His eyes locked with Spike’s, he sucked the warm sweet blood into his mouth. His features shifted and he felt heat pool in his groin as his cock grew hard. 

Even though Spike knew that Dean might shift, he couldn’t say he was fully prepared for it. It was hard staring into fierce yellow eyes and seeing Dean’s beautiful face transform into demonic features. It took a little getting used to, but he found he could still see Dean behind that mask. 

He started to look lower, his gaze moving hotly over Dean’s neck and chest, to the unmistakable arousal straining against his shorts. “No doubt about it. My blood’s your little blue pill,” he said. Reaching out, he swept his hand over Dean’s bumpy forehead, then to the side of his face. When Dean’s face shifted back to human, he kissed him, right on the corner of the mouth, raising his head suddenly when he felt Dean tense. “Not taking it away,” he grumbled. 

Taking a step back, he grasped Dean’s shorts and started working them down over his hips. 

“For you, I’d let you. I just wouldn’t suggest doing it without warning me.   
The demon’s kinda like a dog with its favorite bone.” Dean lifted his hips a little so Spike could get his shorts off easier. “And speaking of bone...” he said taking another deep sip as he looked down at his own stiff cock before glancing up into Spike’s face. The hunger he saw in Spike’s face practically rivaled the demon’s hunger for blood. No one had ever looked at him quite like that. It was a lust, a need, like Spike wanted to devour him. But entwined with the raw need was the desire to join them and make these two slightly broken men into something whole and wonderful. Dean forced himself to pull his lips away from the tube. “Kiss me,” he whispered. A demand, a command. He licked the last of the blood from his lips as he waited for Spike to give him what he wanted. 

Deciding he would have to get used to the taste of blood anyway, and that he could never resist anything Dean asked for when he looked at him with that much heat in his eyes, Spike quickly shucked his own jeans and shorts. Climbing onto the bed, he straddled Dean’s hips and leaned in, bringing his mouth down over Dean’s stained lips. 

Dean started to bring his hand down, to grip both their cocks and stroke them, but was brought up short by the handcuff. He could release the bag of blood in his free hand but the vampire in him wasn’t willing to do that. Certainly he could break the handcuff, but that would ruin its intent. He tangled his tongue with Spike’s as Spike kissed him, lifting his hips and thrusting up against Spike’s body, feeling Spike’s own arousal pressing against his stomach.

Since he couldn’t bring himself to set the blood aside, he adjusted his grip on it and wrapped his arm around Spike’s back, pulling him closer. He sucked on Spike’s tongue, pulsing to the same rhythm that his hips rose and fell, moaning into his lover’s mouth.

Giving an answering groan, Spike pressed closer and ground his hips, rubbing his achingly hard cock against Dean’s as they kissed. The press of Dean’s arm wrapped around him reminded him of Dean’s strength, exciting him. He withdrew his tongue from Dean’s mouth, then kissed him again, this time starting a fiery battle of dancing tongues. His hands roamed over Dean, touching him hungrily, greedily, like he would never get enough. 

Rattling the cuffs on the metal bedframe, frustration welled up inside Dean. He wanted to keep kissing Spike, he wanted to finish drinking down the blood Spike had given to him, he wanted to run his hands over Spike-- he wanted it all. A soft growl slipped from his throat as he kissed Spike more aggressively, as his features shifted again. He focused on their battle of tongues. Spike would simply have to learn how to kiss him when his fangs were exposed since Spike seemed to bring it out in him, and his typical iron control slipped when this man was in his arms. The thought of sinking his teeth into Spike’s neck or shoulder made him impossibly harder, though he forced the thoughts to be nothing more than fantasy. He thrust faster, feeling the precum lubricate their cocks.

“Hold on mate--” Conversation was clearly out for the moment. Spike didn’t shrink away from Dean’s aggression. He reveled in it. Encouraged it. And learned how to deal with it. Sometimes giving as good as he got, and sometimes letting Dean take control. He wasn’t sure how long they went like that, but when Dean’s arm finally loosened a little, he quickly got up onto his knees.

Eyes locking with Dean’s, he whispered, “drink.” As soon as Dean brought the bag close to his mouth, Spike grasped Dean’s hard cock and slowly lowered himself over it. As Dean’s blunt tip pushed inside him, Spike closed his eyes and ground down harder, his head rocking back at the sharp pain, but no sound coming out of him as he took Dean, all of him, inside.

First the explosion of Spike’s blood in his mouth, followed by his cock suddenly wrapped tightly as Spike pressed down and took him completely in, was almost an orgasmic overload. A groan, a shout if he hadn’t had his lips wrapped around the tube, sucking hard on the contents of the bag, practically rattled in his chest. He began thrusting up into Spike, letting the springs of the bed help him as he found a perfect rhythm with Spike. He sucked the last of the blood from the bag and held it in his mouth, letting his mouth soak up the blood instead of swallowing it. His mouth was on fire, his insides were screaming for release. His hand no longer needing to hold the bag, went to Spike’s side, touching and caressing Spike’s sweat sheened body.

Spike was so wrapped up in the moment, in the way they were responding to each other, it was as if he was in a trance. Each movement of his hips... of Dean’s hips... brought pleasure and pain, ache and satisfaction. His blood pounded at his temples, his heart banged against his chest as he strained for more, moved harder and faster, sometimes feeling like he might pass out when Dean’s cock pressed hard against his prostate. 

Sounds broke from him. Soft grunts, and oaths. Praise, and the occasional poetic verse, sometimes dirty and filthy, and sometimes soft and romantic. Then he found himself repeating Dean’s name, over and over as he got closer to the edge. Cupping the back of Dean’s head, he brought his mouth down over Dean’s just as he tumbled over, coming hard, his hot come spreading across both their stomachs. 

The things Spike said, the dirty talk incensed Dean’s desires, the romance stoked his fires making him want to be gentle and perfect. The push-pull between them was like a dance and when Spike began chanting his name it brought him closer and closer to the edge. Spike’s warm lips pressed against his and the feel of the searing hot come triggered an immediate reaction. His own balls tightened as he fucked Spike through both their orgasms, not slowing down until both were milked dry and desperate kisses turned loving and soothing.

His lust eased and he was no longer driven by need, but still, Spike touched and kissed Dean. Wanting to be held by Dean, he broke the kiss and reached for the key on the nightstand. Uncuffing Dean’s wrist, he settled back down on his lap. “I keep expecting to wake from this dream,” he admitted, one arm around Dean’s shoulder, the other cupping the back of his head. “For someone, something, to take you away from me.”

“You’re not going to lose me. I’ve waited too long for you. I’ve been through too damned much. I stopped hoping, I stopped wishing. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. Only the thought of leaving my ring behind as I sat out in the park to watch the sunrise.” Dean stroked Spike’s side gently. “I was just waiting until--until I felt like I’d paid back my debt for the lives I took. And maybe, maybe until Sam died from old age. Not something most Winchesters ever get to do. But now, I’m not going anywhere. You and me against the world, against all the evil sons-of-bitches that are out there. I’ve got you and Jo’s backs, from here on out,” Dean promised him, staring into those sapphire eyes that made his gut clench, that would make his heart beat fast if it could beat at all.

“And we’ll be watching out for you,” Spike promised, drawing Dean’s head toward him and slanting his mouth over Dean’s, giving him a hot, lingering kiss. “Thought for the rest of my life, it would all be glory hole walls with nameless, faceless strangers. That a kiss, or a touch, would never again mean anything. I will never get tired of kissing you, of touching you. And it will _always_ mean something,” Spike declared. 

Dean licked his lips and gave a smile. “And just how long would you like that life to be?”

“I’m not kicking the bucket any time soon. Got too much to live for, yeah?” His eyes told Dean exactly what he’d found to live for. 

Dean gave Spike a slow, romantic kiss. “How would you like to live for a long, long time, never grow any older, always be healthy, and still be human? Live long enough to see, I dunno, people land on Mars. People travel beyond our solar system. Hell, maybe get to travel to another solar system ourselves.”

“We’re going back into _dream territory_ ,” Spike said, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile. “I know you said Drusilla did something, but I don’t reckon it will last now that she’s dust, do you?” he asked, lifting off Dean’s lap and landing back down on the mattress next to him. 

“I might have stolen the book and all the supplies that she used to magic her blood. Still working on the translation and the proper pronunciation, but within a few months, well, it’s something to think about. Looks like you’d just need a little magicked blood every full moon from what I can tell. Then--then you could stay with me. Until you get tired of life. Or some evil sonuvabitch nails one of us. I’m kinda figuring on the latter eventually but hell, you never know.”

“How did I know this...” he waved his hand, “was going to lead to me having to get used to _ketchup?_ ” Spike gave a mock groan, then nodded. “Fine, we get nailed by evil... but only after we see Mars. Years and years from now. I could definitely get used to the idea.” 

Dean broke into a huge grin. “For the first time in a long time, I’m actually looking forward to tomorrow. Because that means another day with of you being with me. Oh, and incidentally, I do like a little good post coital snuggling or spooning.” He pulled Spike closer to him and nuzzled his neck then sucked a hickey into the flesh. “Mmmm, much better,” he sighed.

“You heard that, did you? The night at the club,” Spike said, smiling as goose bumps broke over his flesh. He brushed his mouth across Dean’s forehead and put his arm around him. 

“Yeah. I did. And I really wanted to correct you but--doesn’t matter now. That’s all in the past.” Dean laid there for a few minutes just soaking up Spike’s presence. “We can get a real place if you don’t want to live here. And I’m trying to decide if maybe I should send my brother a letter or something. Or should I just let him continue to think I’m dead? I mean, I am, technically. I think.” Dean chuckled softly. “Sorry, all sorts of thoughts are throwing a party in my brain. Trying to adjust to you and me… for a long, long time… together.”

“I was thinking... a few skylights,” Spike chuckled, then looked over at Dean. “We’ll figure it all out. Your brother, my parents. Well... mum, really. I was told my dad passed.” He kissed Dean lightly. “First, we get our lives in order, then we conquer the rest, yeah?”

Dean gave a nod. “Sounds like a plan. And Dru may be gone, but that vamp gang is still around. I bet I can find all sorts of reasons to keep you and Jo in San Fran for a couple months.” Dean pulled back and met Spike’s gaze. “You said you wanted to hear it. I’m not good at saying it, but,” and he took a deep breath, “I love you, William Brighton.” 

Spike’s heart tumbled in his chest. He drew a deep breath and reached out, caressing Dean’s cheek. “You’re very good at saying it,” he answered. “In ways that speak louder than words.” He swallowed, and tried to say the words, but years of regret made the words stick in his throat. 

Drawing Dean close, he rested his forehead against Dean’s. “The last time I said those words... I know I’m free of her, I know it in my head,” he said, “but...” He licked his lips. “Me too,” he brushed his mouth against Dean’s. “Me too, Dean.”

Dean gave him a firm kiss. “That’s okay. Just promise me one thing.” He gave Spike a stern look. “The day we arrive on Mars, you have to say it to me. Deal?”

“It’ll be a lot sooner than that,” Spike promised. “Lot sooner.” He scooted down and laid his head on the pillow, shifting when Dean did the same, and then putting his head on Dean’s chest. He traced imaginary lines up and down Dean’s chest, then dropped a kiss on his nipple. “I wonder... how long does it take vampires to recover?” He smiled against Dean’s skin, slyly scraping his teeth across it. 

Dean gave a soft gasp and arched a little. “You know, I was just wondering how soon you’d be up to more.” He turned a little onto his side and slapped his hand firmly on Spike’s ass cheek. “Glad to know you can keep up with me.” Grinning, he began kissing Spike when Spike lifted his head. Without even looking he reached out to the end table and grabbed the handcuffs and slipped them into Spike’s hand.

“I knew you kept getting arrested on purpose,” Spike smirked, cuffing Dean’s wrist in a fluid motion. He lifted himself up, off Dean. “On your stomach, and spread them,” he commanded, his tone as cool as if he was making an arrest, but his eyes hot with desire.

“And I think you’ve had entirely too much practice at this,” Dean said, but obediently rolled onto his stomach, then spread his arms and legs wide. “I trust you’re going to give me a very thorough search. Never know where I might be hiding what.” He looked over his shoulder and grinned at Spike, the heat in Spike’s eyes reflected in his own.

“I’ll bet you’ve had a fair share of practice yourself.” Spike ran his hand down the center of Dean’s back, and over his hard ass, smacking it lightly. 

“Hey! Watch it there!” Dean mock complained. “You’re only allowed to do that if you really mean it.

“Have I told you that you’re bloody gorgeous? Didn’t think I stood a chance, from the first moment you spoke with me. Tried to push you away. Keep you out of my mind,” Spike said, thinking of how hard it had been to concentrate and to keep reminding himself that relenting would put Dean into danger. 

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re _bloody_ gorgeous, too. Way too pretty to be an FBI agent. I couldn’t get you out of my head either. Of course, I think I had much ‘naughtier’ thoughts than you did. I was beginning to think you were all but celibate.”

“Thought I went to the back room in the bar just to watch... or listen, rather?” Reaching for both of Dean’s wrists, and pulling them to the center of his lower back, “I had downright dirty thoughts about you,” he said thickly, clamping the cuffs onto Dean’s other wrist, and rocking back to admire his handiwork. 

“With you Brits, you never know,” Dean teased. “So tell me, what were some of these dirty thoughts you had? Which one was your favorite fantasy?” Dean tugged a little at the handcuffs, knowing what a thrill it was to tie up your partner and then watch them test their bonds.

“I played the ‘bad cop,’” Spike answered. “In the SUV and in the jail cell. Never thought of a crypt.” Grabbing the cuffs, he tested them himself. The way Dean’s arms jerked up and his muscles strained sent blood surging straight to Spike’s cock. 

Pressing one hand flat on Dean’s back, he sprawled over him, covering Dean’s body. With his burgeoning cock pressed against Dean’s ass cheek, he started to kiss Dean’s ear, and neck. “You have the right to lay there and play dead,” he teased, moving his mouth over Dean’s shoulder. 

“If I play dead, you’re in for a boring night,” Dean teased back. “Now if I’ve got the right to play vampire...” He brought out his fangs and twisted his head, pressing a kiss against Spike’s temple, then letting his teeth scrape over that tender skin. “It might be a whole lot more interesting.”

Spike gave a soft huff. “You’ve had your blood quota for the day,” he said, though he knew Dean hadn’t broken any skin. “Let’s get another look at your dangerous teeth.” The moment Dean opened his mouth, Spike leaned in and kissed him, pushing his tongue inside and maneuvering it around his razor-sharp teeth before tangling it with Dean’s. “Mmm,” he groaned, thrusting lightly and feeling his cock swell.  
Dean groaned back, wanted to put his hands on Spike’s asscheeks but the tug against the cuffs reminded he couldn’t. What he could do was massage his fingers into Spike’s abdomen, right above his groin. With another groan he arched his back, sliding his fingers down until he managed to brush his fingers over Spike’s thickening cock before he let himself relax back down, focusing on kissing him, grinning against his lips.

Spike hadn’t expected to be fondled. Before he got enough, there was another shock in store for him. Dean suddenly stopped. “Bastard...” he whispered into Dean’s mouth, unable to stop himself from thrusting against Dean and grinding his hips to regain some pressure. “You’re laughing... you’re bloody well laughing, aren’t you?” he demanded, raising his head when he felt Dean’s shoulders shake. “Bite me.” Instead, Spike bit Dean’s shoulder. Hard. 

Dean let out with a cry of pleasure as he felt Spike’s teeth dig into his shoulder. “Fuckkkk...” he hissed, lifting his ass against Spike’s groin, pushing up. “Don’t tell me to bite you unless you really want me to,” he warned Spike, flashing his fangs, some of his more evil fantasies tickling the back of his mind.

“Except when you’re tied up and can’t do a bloody thing about it, yeah?” His triumph was short lived as Dean rubbed his ass against him, sending his world spinning. Groaning, he pumped against Dean a few times, his breaths growing labored. “I’m the one’s supposed to be torturing you.”

Pulling himself together, Spike made his way down Dean’s back. Licking long trails along his shoulder blades, then sucking on them. Kissing him. Sometimes dragging his teeth along his skin, especially down his sensitive sides. As he moved lower, he scooted down. Slapping his hands over Dean’s ass cheeks, he kneaded them as he kissed the small of his back.

“That feels awesome,” Dean murmured, bending his legs and wrapping them loosely around Spike, sliding them over the back of Spike’s knees. “I don’t even smoke and I think I already want a cigarette,” Dean said, tightening and releasing the muscles in his ass cheeks. “Your breath is so warm, and the way I hear your heart pounding in your chest… the way you smell… like your blood. Wild, spicy, masculine, strong...” Dean imagined the taste of Spike’s blood as he took in a deep breath, loving how Spike’s scent covered him.

“Keep talking like that and I’m going to fall for myself.” The warm sensation washing through Spike had nothing to do with lust, and everything to do with the emotions Dean stirred up inside him. “I’m still a bit jealous of my blood... way you take to it,” he admitted, sliding slowly down further, even though their legs were tangled together. Dipping his head down, he sucked Dean’s finger into his mouth and made some muffled noises, before releasing it with a wet pop. 

“It’s all you, not the blood. I mean the blood wouldn’t do anything for me if you didn’t already drive me crazy,” Dean said, then gave a shudder as Spike sucked on his finger. “I thought I was the evil one around here,” Dean complained when Spike let go of his finger. That complaint turned into a moan that he voiced into the mattress as Spike’s mouth ghosted over his ass. “Fucking evil,” he hissed, feeling his muscles ripple under Spike’s attention.

Spike dragged his wet tongue down along Dean’s crack, pushed Dean’s thighs open wider and licked the underside of his balls. He blew on them, then lowered his face and mouthed them, sucking lightly and alternately pressing his tongue against the base of Dean’s trapped cock. 

Dean squirmed and writhed under Spike’s attentions. “Jesus,” Dean breathed, tightening his legs around Spike slightly, trying to push back to get more pressure. The cuffs jangled as he moved his arms, his fingers stretching out as if to reach for Spike. “More, Spike. More,” he begged, his eyes squeezed tightly shut with pleasure.

Dean’s reaction sent a thrill through Spike. More... yeah he’d give Dean more, give him anything he wanted. Wrapping an arm around Dean’s thigh, he pushed his hand under Dean and cradled his dick in his palm as he sucked on his balls, sometimes pushing them so that Dean’s cock moved against his hand. He licked and sucked and pleasured, sometimes squeezing Dean, always... always feeling his lust rise at the sounds Dean made and the way his body thrashed.

Need twisted in Spike’s gut. When he couldn’t take it anymore. When he needed Dean as much as he needed to breath, he abruptly detangled their bodies, grabbed the chain between the cuffs, and pulled Dean down the mattress, until his knees were over the edge. Then he tugged the chain back, forcing Dean’s body into a slightly upright position. 

Spike wanted him up, but the loss of Spike’s hand and mouth on his thick and leaking cock, combined with rocking back, pressing his needy cock into the mattress, had Dean groaning. “You better be planning on taking me or I swear, I’m breaking these cuffs and throwing you down,” Dean growled. He gave some slight thrusts against the mattress growing desperate for friction against his cock. Spike’s scent, rich with arousal, was calling to the demon in him as much as the man, and the thought of sinking his teeth into Spike as he fucked was growing stronger.

Spike pressed up against Dean’s ass, letting him feel how hard and heavy he was with need. “You have your answer,” he said thickly, “Now... take it.” Without wasting time, he aligned his cock to Dean’s hole and with a single, hard thrust, buried himself to the hilt. His head rocked back at the blinding pleasure and pain. “Fuck... you’re tight,” he said through labored breaths.

Dean gasped sharply at the sudden intrusion and filling. He practically fell back against Spike. “Yeah, it’s been… a long time since I let anyone… the demon doesn’t like it...” Dean grit out. “Gimme your wrist. Just a nick, I promise. I want to taste you as you fuck my brain outs,” he said, closing his eyes as he forced his muscles to relax to fully accept Spike’s cock inside him.

“Tell your demon to _suck it_ ,” Spike ground out, shoving Dean’s back down, pressing him against the mattress as he slowly pulled out a little and then snapped his hips forward, a deep cry tearing from his throat as his hips slotted flat against Dean’s ass.

Dean didn’t expect to end up face down on the mattress again. He’d expected Spike to give him his wrist, and expected Spike’s other hand on his cock. Instead he was face first on the mattress, Spike taunting the demon as he pulled out and slammed back in. A deep growl erupted from Dean. The demon was used to being boxed in, but not denied, not like that.

“Take hold of my wrists,” Dean growled to Spike. “Just hold onto them for a minute.” He feared if Spike didn’t somehow ground him, the demon might slip the chains he kept it in and the cuffs around his wrists would mean nothing. He wanted Spike to fuck him but the demon was pissed it wouldn’t get to taste Spike’s blood.

Spike wanted to go at it hard and fast, but something in Dean’s voice told him not to brush him off this time. He pulled his body back slightly and closed his hands around Dean’s wrists, only slightly surprised when he felt Dean’s fingers close tightly around his own. 

Every cell in his body screamed for it. Every muscle tensed and was ready for it. Every instinct cried and pressured him to start fucking. It took everything Spike had to reel it all in, and merely say under his breath, “not a good time for an advert break, mate. Want you.” 

Dean nodded, forcing his vampiric nature back under control, soothing the demon inside with promises of blood in the future from Spike, that eventually Spike would trust him enough to let him bite and drink. The demon reluctantly backed down and Dean sucked in a breath. “Sorry. You drive me crazy. You drive the vampire crazy, too.” He gave Spike’s fingers a squeeze then released them. “It’s all good. Just… don’t taunt the demon and I’m all yours.” He gave a nod. “Take me like you want to.” Dean said, feeling back in control again, the fangs and vampire features wiped away.

“How about you? Can I taunt you?” Spike teased, moving his mouth along the side of Dean’s neck, then straightening again. “For the record, you make me crazy, too,” he admitted, bending his legs, then straightening them sharply, pushing himself as deeply inside Dean as he could get. He started to pump his hips, each movement harder and faster, until he was pistoning in and almost out of Dean. As the minutes ticked by, he got all the pressure he needed, just the way he’d needed it, and finally managed to slow down.

Pulling Dean up, he had him on his knees in front of him. Closing his arm around him, holding him tight against his body, feeling the press of the cuffs and Dean’s hands against his stomach, he undulated his hips. Slow, soft movements gave him the chance to explore Dean’s body with his free hand. Each time he leaned in, he could see how hard Dean was, and how he tried to press against the mattress. Sliding his hand down his firm stomach, he closed his hand around Dean’s cum-slicked dick. “This what you wanted?” he asked, his hot breath caressing Dean’s neck. 

If Dean had been standing, he was certain his knees would have given when Spike finally wrapped his callused hand around his cock. “Fuck yeah,” Dean said giving a sharp nod. He twisted his head and captured Spike’s lips tenderly, kissing him slowly, even as soft groans escaped him. Finally letting Spike take a breath, Dean brushed his lips over Spike’s cheek. “I’ve never let anyone do this to me. The bondage, the fucking. Not at the same time anyhow, and not like this. Never trusted anyone enough, not like I trust you.” He looked into Spike’s eyes. “I’m glad this was saved for you. I can’t imagine it more… perfect. I know I’m an awesome lover,” Dean grinned. “But you’re awesomer. Just so you know.” 

“Tell me again. _After_ ,” Spike grinned back, before slanting his mouth firmly over Dean’s. As they kissed, he started to vary his thrusts, sometimes deep and fast, and sometimes achingly slow. Each time he got it just right, he was rewarded with Dean’s inner muscles clenching tight around him. “Good... so bloody good...” Before he knew it, Spike was fucking hard again, his hand moving over Dean’s length, pushing both of them to the very edge. “Break the cuffs. Want to see...” he whispered, his voice edged with excitement. 

Each time Spike hit his prostate just right, Dean practically jerked against him, his breath catching, moans of pleasure slipping out of him. In turn he felt the reaction Spike had as he clenched, could hear the way Spike’s heart practically stuttered. He drank it all in, the scents, the feelings, the sounds of flesh moving against flesh, the rush of blood, Spike’s breathing. It was unlike any time before. He felt close, ready to explode, then heard Spike’s request. He could have snapped the cuffs with a quick sudden movement, but that wasn’t what Spike wanted or needed. He let Spike feel his arm muscles bunch and tense and he slowly pulled his wrists apart. The links began to splay open, until one finally snapped and his arms separated, only to wrap around Spike’s back side. “You’re mine,” Dean breathed, then cried out his pleasure as his cum erupted from him in a thick stream. 

Seeing the metal links fall apart in a vivid demonstration of Dean’s strength, Spike almost came. He barely managed to hold back when he felt Dean’s hand on him, his words of claiming reverberating through him. “Yes!” he grunted, grinding against Dean as his climax ripped through him. “Yes,” he repeated, then shouted Dean’s name as he gave a final sharp thrust, filling Dean’s ass with his cum. 

Falling forward against Dean’s back, Spike held his shoulders and kissed his neck. “The trust goes two ways. I’d never get into bed with a man with a cape and fangs, unless it was you.” He gave Dean another noisy kiss, then slowly pulled out of him. 

Spike’s words filled him with a warmth he’d never felt before, and he gave a soft sound as Spike pulled out of him. He turned in Spike’s arms and held him close, running one hand up and down Spike’s back slowly. “I don’t have a cape,” Dean said with a laugh, “but maybe for Halloween.” He finally nuzzled Spike’s neck and let his fangs come out. He gave the lightest of nips, causing two pinpricks, with a tiny drop of blood welling up. He licked across them, sealing the nicks even as he let the two small drops tantalize his taste buds. “Sue me. I wanted dessert,” he whispered in Spike’s ear, then kissed Spike where he’d ‘bit’ him. Dean gave a yawn and let his eyes begin to slide close.

Spike shook his head. “You’re incorrigible. Trouble with a capital T.” Licking the cut on his own lip and seeing Dean close his eyes, he asked, “that a hint? It’s my turn to carry you?” Standing him up, he pulled Dean with him, and half carried him before dropping him onto the bed. “You were saying something about ‘throwing me down.’” Smirking, Spike dropped down on the bed next to Dean. “You just tell me when, yeah?” Rolling onto his side, he gave a sound of satisfaction when Dean curled around him just the way Spike needed. “You’re mine. All. Night. Long.”

Dean smiled and tugged him a little closer. “I’m yours. All nights, all days, until we both get tired of seeing the sun rise and set. As for throwing you down, give me an hour, a bit of microwaved blood, and then I’ll satisfy you in all the right ways.” He kissed Spike’s neck, then snuggled down after pulling a blanket over them and interlacing the fingers on one hand with Spike’s fingers before letting sleep take him.

 

**EPILOGUE**  
[2 Months Later]

Their transfers to the San Francisco office had gone through without a hitch. He and Jo moved into their new offices. They’d obviously still be doing a whole lot of traveling in order to hunt monsters wherever they were, but Spike was happy this was his home base now. 

A bunch of them were at a bar, an FBI hangout. 

Seeing Dean talking to Robert but watching him, Spike told a colleague, “Know why I’m glad the transfer was approved?”

“Sure I do,” the guy answered, his gaze going to Dean, and back to Spike.

“Coffee,” Spike said.

“Coffee?” the guy asked.

“Yeah... the coffee here is much, much better.” His eyes twinkled because he knew Dean was eavesdropping.

Dean tossed Spike a glare and excused himself from talking with Robert. He walked over to Spike and leaned in close, whispering to him. “You keep up that crap and I’m either gonna kiss you like you’re some swooning chick, or you’re not getting sex for a week. Maybe both.” He shook his head and muttered in disgust, “Coffee. Asshole.”

Laughing, Spike put an arm around Dean to prevent him from straying. “You’ve got your _refreshments_ of choice, and so do I. What’s wrong with that?”   
“Nothing,” Dean grumped. “But everyone knows about us, right? I mean c’mon, comparing me to coffee? That’s harsh. I’m way more stimulating.”

“And you’ll prove it to me in a few hours. C’mon... round of drinks... on me,” Spike raised his hand, gesturing to the bartender. “Right here,” he tapped twice on the bar and one of the bartenders brought two rounds of whiskey for them. 

“Did I mention I expanded our handcuff collection?” Dean asked, giving Spike a grin as he picked up the glass and held it up, as if in toast. “Or that I finished getting that Romanian spell translated? How do you feel about some ketchup tonight?” He took a sip of the whiskey instead of just tossing it back, his gaze locked with Spike’s. 

Spike’s fingers tightened on his glass. He looked down at it, then back into Dean’s eyes. “Does it come with a Dean-chaser?” he asked, not thrilled with the prospect of downing blood. As sexy as Dean made it look, drinking it himself wasn’t all that appealing. It was a means to an end.

“It’ll come with any sort of chaser you want.” Dean licked his lips then reached out and brushed his fingers lightly over the side of Spike’s face. “You can always say ‘no.’ I get it, I do, if you don’t want to. It won’t change anything.” Dean glanced briefly up the ceiling that was decorated with sports gear and posters before returning his gaze to Spike. “Except maybe a walk on Mars for the two of us.”

“Dean...” Spike rolled his eyes. “I want to do it, I will do it. It’s just... ketchup’s not _my_ drink of choice, yeah? More like medicine.” He made a face. “Not that it doesn’t look one hundred percent sexy on you.” He willed Dean to understand.

Dean gave a nod. “I’m just saying you have a choice. You’ll always have that choice. Don’t want you thinking I’ll be pissed at you or anything.” Dean straightened and held his glass up. “To our drinks of choice. Or necessity, at least.”

“Oh, you’re my drink of choice. Show you on my knees, later,” Spike winked before raising the glass and hearing a sound of disgust. Downing his drink, he turned. “Why is it you’re always around at the wrong bloody moment?” he demanded.

“Why is it you’re always perving on each other,” Jo shot back. “Okay, I get it, you love him, but seriously. Dirty martini, on him,” she said to the bartender.

“He hasn’t quite managed to admit that to me,” Dean said, giving Spike a wink. “Not that he hasn’t shown me in all sorts of ways I’d be more than happy to detail for you.”

“What?” Jo’s eyes widened and she gave Spike a shove. “You haven’t told him? He says it all the time,” she told Dean. 

“I’ll be having another drink.” Spike slumped against the bar. “This is why I should keep you two apart.”

“You told her? And… all the time?” Dean said and smacked Spike on the arm. He felt a both a flutter in his gut and the smallest measure of annoyance that Spike hadn’t gotten up the nerve to say it to him, yet had told Jo. He really did understand and he had promised Spike all the time in the world to get comfortable to finally say it. Not like he could really talk since he rarely said it himself, but still! He looked at Jo. “You know, I think you and I ought to have a once a month coffee date. So I can find out what else he’s too chicken to say to me. At least he can’t accuse me of snoring.”

“It’s a date, and no, you’re not invited,” she said to Spike, grinning.

“No bloody coffee dates with anyone who shares my taste in men,” Spike tossed out.

Jo gave Dean a speculative look. “Isn’t he cute when he’s jealous.” 

“He’s not just cute, he’s smoking hot,” Dean said. “And I’ve told him repeatedly, I’m a one FBI agent kinda guy. No offense, Jo. You’re hot, but he’s my… only.” Dean made a face. “Dammit, there I go getting all chick flick when it comes to him. My brother would laugh his ass off.” Dean finished downing his whiskey and waved for another one.

“I’m laughing my ass off,” Jo said, shaking her head. “Spike, you’re his _only._ ”

“Works for me. Right, I need to eat. I’ll be needing my energy later.” He gave Dean a look. “A round of appetizers?”

Jo groaned. “I’ll pass. There’s Hotchkins. I think I’ll go talk to him.”

“Hotchkins?” Spike asked.

“He’s with Alcohol and Tobacco. Our ‘type.’” Smirking, she pushed away from the bar. “See ya in the morning, bright and early.”

Spike leaned to the side to see who she was talking about.

Dean got a look at the ruggedly good-looking guy Jo was off to try and entice and immediately stepped to block Spike’s view. “Appetizers sound good to me. Hey! He’s ugly. Don’t worry about him. Definitely not your type.”

Spike raised his brows, then grabbed Dean’s shirt and dragged him close for a kiss. “I’ve got everything I want, right here. Right... appetizers, then home for _drinks_.” 

“Mmm, you know how to sweet talk a guy,” Dean said, giving Spike the kiss they both wanted.

* * * 

Dean stood at the table in the crypt, a black tablecloth edged in silver covering it. He chanted the words he’d been practicing for a month, while slitting his wrist with a special iron blade. Black lines radiated up his arm from the wound as his blood slowly dripped down his palm, along his fingers and into the elaborately sculpted metal chalice. When it was half full, he ended the spell and then licked over the cut he’d made with the knife, making a slight face at the strange tang his blood had at the site of the wound. He blew out the two candles and carried the goblet over to Spike.

“Bottoms up,” he said, hoping Spike could stomach it. Most people, if they drank blood, would end up throwing it right back up. “It’s supposedly sweet, imbued with my love, yadda-yadda-yadda.” He held it out for Spike to take.

Spike stood up and took the goblet. His gaze dropped to the already healing cut on Dean’s arm, then lifted to meet Dean’s. He stared at him for a long moment, then spoke in a low, clear voice. “Do it with me.”

“Do what?” Dean asked. “You want me to heat up some blood to drink with you?”

Spike’s eyes darted to the cabinet that held the medical equipment they used to allow him to _donate_ blood to Dean. He licked his lips, then setting the goblet down, he unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and started to roll it up.

Heat immediately filled Dean’s eyes. They were careful about how much blood Spike gave him, though Dean often couldn’t help himself and nicked Spike during lovemaking, but only enough to offer a few drops to satisfy his craving for Spike’s blood. If nothing else, it kept the demon under control, even though the demon in him often demanded he bite Spike properly and drink deeply.

Dean strode over to the cabinet and pulled out the supplies and grabbed a wine glass. Instead of an alcohol wipe, Dean sucked on the crease of Spike’s elbow for a moment, his tongue running over the pulsing veins and arteries there, slightly numbing it with his saliva. Pulling open an IV and tubing, he inserted the needle, then put the tubing’s end into the glass. He watched the deep crimson liquid slide through the tube and carefully gauged it, pulling the IV out when the wine glass was half full. He leaned down and licked over the small puncture, sealing it, then lifted up the tubing to let the last of the blood flow into it. He placed the tubing and IV into the trash and returned to Spike’s side.

“You thought up any good toasts?” Dean asked, his cock already stiffening a little from the tantalizing small tastes he’d gotten of Spike’s blood, to say nothing of the aromatic smell that he breathed in deeply. 

“Why’s it so erotic when you’re the one…?” Spike gave a nod. His heart was racing just because he sensed Dean’s arousal, and he knew Dean would practically make love to his blood. “I don’t know. The things we do for love?” he asked, raising his glass to touch it to Dean’s. 

Dean clinked his own glass against Spike’s. “There you go, saying that ‘L’ word. You’re getting closer.” He grinned. “The things we do for love.” He could hear Spike’s racing heart as he lifted his glass of Spike’s blood to his lips and took a long slow sip, holding it in his mouth, savoring it like the finest of wines.

Watching Dean enjoy his essence, all sorts of emotions washed over Spike. Determined to do this without ruining the moment, Spike locked gazes with Dean and started to drink. He didn’t dare breathe, but he concentrated on Dean’s expression. 

Dean’s blood was thick and heavy, but it went down easier than Spike would have imagined. He was three quarters done when he pulled the glass from his mouth. He ran his tongue over his teeth, sure they were stained red. “I love you,” he said, giving Dean a nod, before drinking the rest of the blood down.

Dean watched Spike, waiting for the scowl or narrowed eyes that indicated Spike thought the blood was vile tasting, but it never came. Surprisingly, Spike seemed readily able to tolerate it. Even so, he nearly dropped his glass when Spike said those three precious words. As soon as Spike finished, Dean wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him up against him, slanting his mouth over Spike’s, kissing him fervently.

“Mmm... Dean-chaser, just what I need,” Spike said between kisses, plastering himself against Dean. As Dean’s tongue swept over his teeth, and palate and own tongue, the taste of blood was replaced by a taste he knew and loved. Dean’s. Cupping the back of Dean’s head, he kissed him harder. “And you gave up my blood for this,” he pointed out, a little triumphantly. Parting Dean from his blood was another first. “It’s definitely love.”

“I told you, it’s the man, not the blood. But I was sort of thinking how much you might enjoy me cuffed to the bed while you held the wine glass that still has your warm blood in it.”

“You know I’m going to tease,” Spike warned, using his body to push Dean backwards towards their bed. “Your demon’s going to have to suck it up.” Before Dean answered, Spike kissed him again, needing to touch him and to be in his arms.

Dean sucked Spike’s tongue into his mouth, refusing to let Spike go until he knew Spike had to be desperate for air. “Then I guess you better not get your wrist too close to my mouth or the demon might just suck it, given the chance to bite.” Dean was mastering showing his fangs without his eyes or forehead changing. He managed to flash only his fangs at Spike as he walked backwards. 

“So bloody hot, when you do that,” Spike whispered huskily, chasing Dean’s mouth with his own and insisting on a kiss. He knew it both freaked Dean out and excited him when they engaged in tongue play when Dean’s fangs came out. 

“Dude! If you make me spill your blood...” Dean threatened, the blood in the glass he was holding sloshing a bit. “Both the demon and me are gonna be pissed.”

“Thought it was the man, not the blood.” They’d reached the bed. Spike closed his hand around the glass Dean was holding, and carefully waited for him to release it.

Dean gave a long look at the glass and finally let go. “Okay, so maybe it’s a little of both,” he said sheepishly, then stripped off his shirt before crabbing backwards onto the bed.

“I knew it.” Setting the glass down, Spike pulled the drawer of the nightstand open, and raised a brow. “Leather with metal spikes... nice.” He selected the leather cuffs, and followed Dean onto the bed. “Grab the railing.” When Dean did, Spike used the leather bindings to tie Dean’s wrists to the headboard, on either side of his body. “Tight enough?” he asked, stripping off his shirt and the tee shirt.

“Thought you’d like them.” Dean licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah. Straddle me and gimme a drink before that hot-blood of yours cools off,” Dean said.

“You know, I’m beginning to think you have a blood fetish.” Smirking, Spike took his time undoing his belt and zipper, though he kept them on when he straddled Dean’s thighs. Reaching for the glass, he made a show of almost spilling it. “Slippery. Almost dropped your bloody Mary.” He raised the glass and moved it around so that the scarlet liquid stained its sides

Dean’s eyes followed the glass, just as if Spike had been waving a feather in front of a cat. His attention was riveted on the blood. “The glass really is warm... body temperature...” He brushed the edge of the glass against Dean’s lips, but pulled it away. 

“Fair warning, you drop it, and I’m going to get a replacement directly from the container,” Dean growled, the scent of the blood so tantalizingly close it had his cock thickening. He lifted his hips a little, trying to press his groin against Spike’s.

Spike had raised himself up slightly, but when Dean lifted his hips, the contact had him groaning. He lightly pressed back, then gave up and lowered himself, grinding against Dean. He touched the glass to Dean’s lips and tilted the glass, but only high enough to let a trickle of blood into Dean’s mouth. Pulling it away, he ran his free hand up Dean’s chest, acting almost as if he forgot about the blood.

Dean sucked and licked at the blood like a starving man, his cock growing harder and harder. He chased after the glass, but felt Spike’s warm hand on his chest and glanced down. “Bring that hand of yours a little higher,” he teased, “and let me have a real taste of you.”

“I know that trick.” As Spike ground down over Dean’s hard cock, he jerked suddenly, spilling some of the blood down his chest. “Oops.” Smirking, he leaned in, bringing his chest up against Dean’s mouth. “Lick it.”

Dean’s mouth was on Spike’s chest as soon as Spike was close enough, his tongue and lips sliding over the crimson rivulets. At least until he slid his mouth to the side and sucked hard on one of Spike’s nipples as he rolled his hips back, grinding up against Spike.

Groaning, Spike almost spilled the blood for real. Saving it, he raised himself slightly, so Dean could lick the rest of the blood off him. The loving way Dean was lapping at him sent a jolt of heat straight to Spike’s cock. 

When Dean finished cleaning away the last of the blood, he sucked some of Spike’s flesh into his mouth, intent on giving him the hickey from hell while keeping the demon under tight rein. He finally released the patch of flesh, licking over the dark mark he’d made. Lifting his head, he looked into Spike’s eyes. “Some more, please. After all, I’ve been a very well-behaved vampire,” Dean said, flicking his eyes to the glass.

Spike ran the glass over the mark Dean had left on him. “Not _that_ well-behaved.” Dipping his head down, he stole a kiss, making it as dirty and suggestive as he could. When he lifted his head, he was dizzy with desire. “Drink... then fuck,” he demanded, putting the glass to Dean’s lips and letting him drink at will.

Dean drank down what was left, careful not to let a single ruby drop slip from his lips. As soon as the glass was empty, he locked gazes with Spike, his eyes an inferno of desire. “Your move, FBI man,” Dean rasped, his cock heavy and leaking inside his jeans.

Getting rid of the glass, Spike leaned in. As he kissed Dean, he unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped him. “Oh, I’ll show you my moves...” Spike answered, his eyes hot with desire. “Show you this... and this... and this...” he whispered, touching and squeezing Dean, pushing both of their buttons in all the right places. “It’s gonna be a long, long night.”

THE END


End file.
